A Whole New World
by Kittenmommy
Summary: Sequel to my fic Law and Disorder. Using an ancient artifact, Romana sees a terrible future for the 8th Doctor and those he loves. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

  
  
"A Whole New World"   
  
Prologue  
  
  
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This is meant to cover all subsequent chapters, because I'm sick of always repeating myself. Additional disclaimers will be added on a chapter-by-chapter basis as needed. _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC. Detective John Munch belongs to NBC Television, but I figured that since they've been so good about loaning him out to shows on other networks (_The X-Files_, _The Beat_), they won't mind my borrowing him again for a little while. The other _Law and Order_ characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC Television.  
  
  
Madame President Romanadvoratrelundar stood before the High Council, regal in her white robes of office and matching winged headdress.  
"Is the Council unanimous in their decision?" she asked formally. Chancellor Flavia stepped forward.  
"We are, Madame President." Romana gave a slight nod. "Castellan," Flavia continued, "bring forth the Eye of Rassilon, and for the first time in living memory, a President of the High Council shall look into its depths and see the future, and all other futures that may be."   
  
  
_ The stairwell is gray cement, with bright green metal handrails down both sides of the staircase. At the very bottom of the stairwell lies a young girl, probably just out of her teens. She has long blonde hair and is very beautiful. She is also very dead; one of her legs lies twisted beneath her, and her head is bent back at an impossible angle. She is wearing a powder pink dress and an unusual pendant suspended from a delicate silver chain around her neck. There is a small trickle of blood at the right corner of her mouth, and her deep blue eyes are open and staring at the ceiling, staring at nothing; already they have become glassy and vacant in death. A red-haired woman wearing rubber gloves kneels beside the body as police officers work around her. She and the poor dead girl are the calm in the center of the storm. Hearing footsteps in the stairwell, the red-haired woman stands up to greet the new arrivals. They are two detectives in long gray trench coats, one young and black, the other white and middle-aged. Detective Ed Green looks down at the dead girl and says two of the seven words that can't be said on American television. The older man, Detective Lennie Briscoe, says something in another language under his breath.  
"No cause of death yet, gentlemen," the red-haired woman tells them. "My guess is broken ribs and internal bleeding. But this wasn't an accidental fall… she had _help_ down these stairs. Her neck was snapped _after_ the fall, not as a result of it."  
"Snapped neck," Briscoe says meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at her.  
"Yep. Severed the spinal cord," the red-haired woman confirms, making a cutting gesture.  
"Damn," Green says softly, shaking his head. "Damn."  
"Sir, you don't want to go down there," a voice says from the top of the stairwell. The detectives turn and see a man with salt-and-pepper hair, slightly tinted glasses, and a badge clipped to his long black coat being held back by a uniformed police officer.  
"No way," Green says firmly as Briscoe begins climbing the steps.   
"Come on, Munch… trust me… you don't want to see this," Briscoe tells the other detective at the top of the stairs. A uniformed policeman catches Green's attention.  
"We're treating this like one of our own?" he asks, gesturing at the girl's body. His tone indicates that it's not really a question.  
"You'd better believe it," Green replies with feeling. He looks up at Briscoe, who is trying to convince the other detective to leave the crime scene. With a sigh, Green begins climbing the steps to join his partner. A uniformed policewoman approaches the red-haired woman.  
"What's that around her neck?" the uniform asks, pointing. The red-haired woman kneels down by the body again, taking the pendant in her hand and inspecting it carefully.   
"I have no idea," the red-haired woman tells the uniform. "Bag it and tag it with everything else."  
_  
With a gasp, Romana's head jerked up from the glowing pink globe she held in her hands. She blinked, looking dazed, and then resolutely forced herself to look into the globe again. The High Council saw her eyes widen in horror at what she saw next.  
"Oh… oh no!" she cried. Chancellor Flavia only just managed to catch the Eye in its velvet bag as Romana collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 1The Space Cowboy,The Gangster of Love

  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 1   
  
"The Space Cowboy, The Gangster of Love"  
  
  
  
The bathtub was raised up from the floor on little claw feet. The Doctor was currently immersed in soothingly warm soapy water, thinking about his life… or rather, his _lives_. He had never been a proper Time Lord, not really… at least he had never _behaved_ like one.   
He suddenly recalled with embarrassment a conversation that he'd accidentally overheard early in the life of his first incarnation, when he was fresh out of the Academy. He had taken his mother back to New York to visit her British expatriate parents in their second floor walk-up. She had sat in a warm Brooklyn kitchen sipping tea with Mrs. Weinstein from upstairs and lamenting that she wanted her son to marry a nice virgin girl from the neighborhood. "There aren't any virgins _left_ in the neighborhood, Susan," Mrs. Weinstein had replied acidly. "Your Theta's _shtupped_ them all!"  
A bit later in the life of that incarnation, he had sat on the High Council. That exalted position had been terminated abruptly when he'd taken a TARDIS to his mother's planet on a whim and returned with a dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman whom he'd introduced in the language of his mother's people as his _wife_. That particular episode had ended badly for all involved.  
In any event, proper Time Lords didn't marry, much less marry humans. The fact that his own father had done both seemed to escape his critics' notice, probably because his father had been thoroughly mapped out and neatly loomed, rather than conceived in a random mix of genes and birthed in an agonizing (not to mention tastelessly untidy) process.  
In his subsequent incarnations (during which he had he had been unencumbered with a _wife_ due to circumstances that he felt were mostly his own fault), he had tried very hard to behave like a proper Time Lord. He felt that he had come closest during his seventh; the irony that it had been this same incarnation who had gone to insanely dangerous lengths to have himself literally transformed into an actual human for a short time did not escape him.   
His thoughts turned to his eighth and current incarnation's very un-Time Lord-ish behavior, which he contemplated with something like wonder. On his very first day in this body, he had kissed a stranger… not once but several times. Later, he had had a one-night stand with a traveling companion, certainly a big no-no in his previous incarations' books. He had gotten back together with Tegan – with whom his fifth incarnation had carried on a love affair and unknowingly produced a child (oops!) – and almost immediately screwed it all up beyond repair. And then he had slept with Romana, actually taking her virginity for God's sake.   
What on Gallifrey had gotten into him, anyway?   
Perhaps there was something inside him that wanted to get out. If so, it looked as though it had finally succeeded in making its escape and was now on the loose, terrorizing the intergalactic community. _Lock up your daughters,_ he thought wryly.  
With a sigh, he allowed his head to slip underneath the bubbles for a moment, and then sat up and began to scrub his soapy hair rather harshly.   
"Doctor?" he heard Tegan call.  
"In here," he called back, and heard approaching footsteps. "You said you never wanted to see my face again," he reminded her. "So I feel I should warn you that if you come in here, you're going to see a lot more than that!" He continued scrubbing his hair with his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the soap.  
"Nothing I haven't seen already," he heard her say from the doorway. "Good grief, you're still in the tub," she observed, sounding mildly disgusted. "We're leaving in twenty minutes!" He was surprised on two counts: surprised that she'd somehow gotten into his TARDIS, and surprised that she was speaking to him in a civil tone. Perhaps the three months he'd avoided her had served to mellow her anger somewhat. He could smell her perfume, dark and sexy and heady and familiar. He finished scrubbing his hair and dunked his head under the water to rinse it.  
"Don't worry, Tegan," he said when he resurfaced. "I'll be ready in time." He wiped soapy water from his eyes and looked at her. "Good Lord, you look stunning!" She wore a shimmery black knee-length dress that hugged her curves suggestively and yet was cut conservatively enough that the effect was tastefully sexy, rather than trashy and overdone. "How did you get in here?" he suddenly asked.  
"I have a key," she reminded him. It was true, he realized. She _did_ have a key. When she had begun traveling with him, he had given her a TARDIS key of her own, and in her haste to depart all those years ago, she had neglected to return it. He looked over to see it dangling from her hand on a little silver chain. "Do you want it back?"   
"Not at all," he assured her. He leaned forward and pulled the plug from the drain.  
"The limo will be here to pick us up promptly at five," she continued. "So you'd better be ready to go."  
"I'll be ready." He reached out a hand to pull the shower curtain around the tub. Tegan heard him stand, and the shower started.  
"You're taking a shower too?" she asked, exasperated.  
"No, just rinsing the off soap," came the reply, and the shower stopped.  
"Are you finished?" she asked. "Because we've really got to get moving – "  
"Yes, Tegan… would you mind very much…?"   
"Look, I'm trying to have a conversation with you about the schedule for tonight. Don't tell me you're suddenly shy, Doctor. Like I said, it's nothing I haven't seen before!"  
"You seem very eager to see it again," he said in a knowing voice.  
"You wish!" Behind the shower curtain, he smiled. He'd had enough experience with Tegan to know when he'd hit the nail on the head.  
"We're already running late," he reminded her. He lowered his voice to a purr. "Would you like us to be even later?"  
"Dream on!" she spat. He heard retreating footsteps, and grinned.  
  
  
Members of nearly every sentient species talk to themselves, but a Time Lord who has regenerated seven times can transform the habit into an art form.  
"Hmm," the Doctor said thoughtfully as he tied the gray cravat around his neck. Upon emerging from his bath, he had looked at his usual tan pants and green velvet coat and decided that this particular evening deserved a change… nothing too drastic, just a _little_ change. So he had found a pair of gray pants, a gray waistcoat with dark blue brocade, and a midnight blue velvet coat   
_"That's mine!"_ the voice of his third incarnation said inside his head.   
"Now, let's see if all of this matches," the Doctor murmured, pulling on the waistcoat and buttoning it.   
_"Who cares if it all matches?"_ he heard his sixth incarnation say inside his head.   
_"You have no sense of style!"_ his fourth replied. He pulled on the blue velvet frock coat (_"Mine!"_) and surveyed the final effect in the full-length mirror.   
"Not bad," he decided. He put his hands on his lapels and turned sideways, keeping his eyes on the mirror. "Not bad at all."   
_"I wore a black coat something like that when I took Tegan out in Paris,"_ the rather dry voice of his fifth incarnation said in his mind. _"What a lovely night that was, and what a wonderful relationship we had. Too bad you had to muck it all up!"_  
"Be quiet, would you?" the Doctor told him.   
_"Even I did a better job with Joan!"_ Seven put in dryly.   
"Oh shut up, you annoying little git!"   
_"You're a rather rude one, aren't you?"_ One asked.   
_"_You_ should talk!"_ Two told One.   
"I mean it... _all_ of you just _shut up_!" Thankfully, there was no further reply. He headed for the console room, humming under his breath. He glanced up at the viewscreen and saw Tegan waiting for him right outside in Angelina's living room, tapping her foot impatiently. "Some people call me the Space Cowboy," he sang to himself. He had looped the TARDIS keychain around his finger, and now he swung it in a circle as he stepped out of the police box, still singing the Steve Miller song. "Some call me the Gangster of Love. Some people call me Maurice – "  
"You don't want to know what _I_ call you," Tegan told him.  
"I can only imagine," he agreed with a sigh. He swung the key in one last arc and let it fly free, deftly catching it with his other hand.  
"Show off," she grumbled good-naturedly as he pocketed the key.  
"You'll be happy to learn that I've gotten much better with the yo-yo as well," he told her with enormous sincerity. At that moment, Angelina walked into the living room, wearing a powder pink dress and clutching her little pink cell phone to her ear. Her long blonde hair was swept up neatly in a French twist with one long curl dangling down by her face.  
"I told you, I found it in my mother's jewelry box," she was saying to the person on the other end of the phone. "No, that's all I'm going to say about it. Look, I'll see you at my party in a bit, yeah?" She terminated the connection and smiled. "Editor of British _Vogue_," she told them in a bit of an apologetic tone. "She wanted to know where I got the necklace I wore on the cover of _Vanity Fair_ last month."  
"Would you like it back?" Tegan asked.  
"Oh yes, please," Angelina said with a wicked grin. "I think I'll wear it tonight!" Much to the Doctor's surprise, Tegan handed Angelina her TARDIS key on its little silver chain.  
"You wore a TARDIS key on a magazine cover?" he asked, astonished. "Oh no!"  
"Oh yes!" she replied, fastening the little silver chain around her neck. "And I'm wearing it again next month on the cover of British _Vogue_. Everyone's been asking about it. You know, I walked through the Village last week and I saw someone selling knockoffs on a street corner!"  
"But it's a TARDIS key!" he exclaimed.   
"So?" she asked with a shrug. "It's a very unusual shape and I thought, why not wear it? Now everyone's just dying to know where I got it. Why, three different jewelry stores in London are all claiming that I bought it from them!"  
"But it's a TARDIS key!" he said again.  
"Yeah, I think we've already established that, Doctor," Tegan told him.   
"I thought you were trying to keep her origins a secret," he said rather pointedly to Tegan. "Wearing a TARDIS key on the cover of a magazine may not be quite the best way to go about that," he said a bit acidly, sounding very much like his fifth incarnation; he found that happened a lot when he was around Tegan.  
"How many people would know what it was?" she asked, sounding exasperated.  
"Oh, you might be surprised," he told her in a meaningful tone.   
"And you think that Daleks and Cybermen subscribe to _Vanity Fair_ and _Vogue_, do you?" Tegan asked him sarcastically.  
"No, but –"   
"Think they want make-up tips?" she continued in the same tone.  
"Of course not. But someone else could easily see it. The Rani, for example."  
"Who?" Angelina asked, puzzled.  
"You don't want to know," the Doctor assured her. He turned his attention back to Tegan. "Look, I simply think – "  
"No one cares what _you_ think!" Tegan spat venomously. "It's not as though you were ever around before, is it?"  
"Oh yes, throw that in my face again!" he shouted, suddenly angry. "Funny how you always leave out the part where you left without telling me – "  
"And what would you have done if I'd told you?" she yelled.  
"I would have done something – " he shouted.   
"Yeah, just like you did when you finally _did_ find out, right?" Tegan yelled.  
_"All right you two, that will be_ quite enough_!"_ Angelina screamed over them at full volume, holding up her arms to form the "t" signal for _time out_. Tegan and the Doctor fell silent, staring at her with disbelief. "Honestly, I feel like I should have a whistle in my mouth when I'm around you both!" she continued, sounding just as angry as either of her parents. "Now you two listen, and you listen _good_: it's my twenty-first birthday, and I'll not have the two of you ruining it for me with your stupid arguing. If you can't act like civilized human beings for one night for my sake, then you can both stay the hell away from my party!" The Doctor decided that this probably wouldn't be a good time to remind Angelina that he wasn't a human being, civilized or otherwise… and neither was she, for that matter.  
"All right, I'm sorry," he said quietly instead.  
"Me too," Tegan said rather sullenly, sounding like a little girl who was being forced by her parents to issue an apology that she didn't really mean. Angelina's deep blue eyes narrowed.  
"Kiss and make up," she said.  
"Angelina – " Tegan protested.  
"Really, there's no need," the Doctor said at the same time.  
"Do it," their daughter said with finality. _"Now."_ When neither of them made any move to do so, Angelina sighed. "Right," she said briskly. "I'll be telling them at the door not to admit either of you tonight." She picked up her little multicolored Louis Vuitton handbag and turned to leave. The Doctor sighed.  
"Come on, Tegan," he said, sounding resigned.   
"Oh, all right," she muttered sulkily. Angelina watched as her mother walked over to the Doctor and gave him a quick peck on the lips.   
"Hmm," she said critically. "Well, I suppose it'll do. Now come on, we're going to be late."  
"She gets it from _you_, you know," Tegan muttered at him as they followed her out of the apartment. His eyebrows went up.  
"That's funny, I was just thinking about how much she reminds me of _you_ sometimes."  
"Irony abounds," Angelina said sardonically, pushing the button for the elevator. "Obviously I've inherited all of the best traits from each of you," she continued, her voice dripping acid. "Aren't I lucky?"  
"Come on, that's definitely _you_ Version 5.0," Tegan muttered to the Doctor as they got on the elevator.  
"Yeah," he agreed ruefully. "I think you're right."  
"Amazing," Angelina said caustically to the ceiling. "They actually agree about something. Quick, call the people at Guinness… it's almost certainly one for the record books."  
"Yes, all right!" the Doctor said. "We've got the idea!" Tegan gave him an impish smile.  
"Now you see what it was like having to deal with you!" He pretended not to hear.   
Angelina's boyfriend, Detective John Munch, was waiting for them when they arrived in the lobby. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back from his forehead, and he was wearing a long black raincoat over his black suit, blue-gray shirt and dark gray tie. Though he always looked presentable, he was not what anyone would call _GQ_ cover material, and it was not lost on him that thousands of people the world over wondered what the beautiful Angelina saw in this bespectacled thrice-divorced curmudgeon and self-described _mensch_ who was at least thirty years her senior. Not that Angelina particularly cared what anyone thought. Munch made her happy, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.  
"The limo's been here for ten minutes," he told her, feeling a bit self-conscious as she kissed him enthusiastically right there in front of her parents.  
"I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I've been playing Ref again with those two," she said, gesturing at the Doctor and Tegan.  
"I should've guessed," he said wryly.   
"Honestly, they're worse than a couple of toddlers!" she complained. "It's just unbelievable how childish they can be when they put their minds to it."  
"You should try sending them to bed without their supper next time," Munch advised.  
"That's right, just talk about us like we're not standing right here!" Tegan said a big indignantly. Munch laughed and bent to kiss her cheek, and then shook the Doctor's hand. The detective was still a bit baffled by the Time Lord's willing acceptance of his daughter's unlikely boyfriend, especially since he'd read that the Doctor had once chased a well-known rock singer around the lobby of an exclusive Los Angeles hotel, brandishing a cricket bat and yelling that he (the rock singer) had better stay away from his daughter. Surely, Munch thought, a rock star would be a much more fitting consort for a supermodel than a homicide detective.   
"All ready to go?" Angelina asked, breaking his reverie. They went outside where the limo waited. The driver opened the door and handed Angelina and Tegan into the limo, waited for Munch and the Doctor to follow, and then shut the door behind them. They sat facing each other, with Munch and Angelina on one side and her parents on the other. Despite the limo's length, it was quite a tight fit due to the inclusion of a small bar and refrigerator on one side of the car.  
"Want a drink?" Munch asked Angelina, brandishing a bottle of champagne he found in the fridge.  
"God yes!" she said with feeling as he unwrapped the foil from the top of the bottle. "You don't know what I've been through with those two tonight!"  
"All right, I believe we've covered that," the Doctor said a bit tetchily.  
"Yes, Five," Tegan told him mildly, and he sighed. Munch gave her a brief puzzled look, and then popped the cork and began pouring drinks.  
"I'll have a drink as well," the Doctor told Munch.  
"Yeah, I thought you'd need one," Munch agreed.   
"I'll have some too," Tegan said. Munch handed her a glass and offered one to the Doctor. As he leaned forward to take it, Tegan caught the faint scent of spice and cloves, patchouli and musk. "You smell awfully good tonight," she told him.   
"Thank you." She frowned.  
"You never used to wear cologne," she reminded him. He shrugged.  
"It's not cologne, it's soap. Angelina gave it to me. It used to belong to someone called Karl Lagerfeld."  
"What?" she asked with surprise, unable to imagine their daughter giving someone used soap as a gift.   
"It has his name on it," he explained innocently, and Tegan suddenly wondered if he was pulling her leg. Munch held up his champagne glass.  
"To the most perfect girl in the world," he said, clinking his glass against Angelina's.  
"I'll second that," the Doctor said.  
"Me too," Tegan said, clinking glasses with the others. Angelina laughed.  
"Hardly that," she said ruefully.  
"I read your rider today," Munch told her. Her eyes widened. "Yeah, they posted it on bigsmokingpistol.com."  
"Pwha, those nosy bastards!" she said, sounding exasperated.  
"What's a rider?" the Doctor asked, sipping his champagne.  
"It's… well, it's what I like to have when I'm working, " Angelina said, sipping her champagne and sounding faintly embarrassed.  
"A rider is a list of celebrity demands," Munch told the Doctor.   
"Yes, but 'demands' sounds so… so… so pretentious and awful!" Angelina said, making a face.  
"But that's really what a rider is," Munch reminded her with a smile. "And at least you didn't demand a bowl of M&Ms with a certain color picked out or a pitcher of Colorado spring water with exactly ten ice cubes and four lemon slices, or a supply of baby animals to hug and kiss."   
"People really ask for things like that?" the Doctor asked, sounding amazed.  
"Yep," Munch confirmed. "Know what's in Angelina's rider?" The Doctor shook his head. Munch smiled. "She wants the studios where she models to be air conditioned to least fifty degrees or lower. And that's it."   
"Well, I have to," Angelina said, sounding apologetic about it. "If they set the temperature in there for a normal person's comfort, I absolutely swelter… especially under those hot lights."  
"'A normal person's comfort'," the Doctor repeated, looking troubled.  
"Oh, you know what I mean!" Angelina said. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and sipped his drink instead.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2, "You're Not Supposed To Be Here!"  
  
  
  
  



	3. 2 You're Not Supposed To Be Here!

  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"You're Not Supposed To Be Here!"  
  
  
Tegan and the Doctor stood off to one side of the club's dance floor and watched as their daughter danced enthusiastically with an awkward-looking Munch. As she moved her body with the music, she sang along with Christina Aguilera:  
  
_ If you wanna be with me  
I can make your wish come true  
You gotta make a big impression  
Gotta like what you do.  
  
I'm a genie in a bottle, baby  
You gotta rub me the right way, Honey  
I'm a genie in bottle, baby  
Come, come  
Come on and let me out._  
  
"You know, I'm not sure I like this song," the Doctor frowned, shouting to be heard above the music. Tegan laughed.  
"Hmm, that's funny… you said the exact same thing when they played that Kylie Minogue song… the one that went, 'your lovin' is all I think about', or whatever it was."  
"No, I didn't like that one either," he agreed readily.  
"And the common denominator between the two is Angelina dancing with her boyfriend and singing along with the lyrics, right?" He gave her a look, but didn't reply. Tegan gave him a sidelong glance; his arms were crossed over his chest and he was rubbing his chin with one hand, frowning with disapproval. She briefly considered asking the DJ to play an old Divinyls song, the one that went _I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself_ just to yank his chain, but decided that she didn't want to ruin Angelina's party with his likely reaction to seeing his daughter and her boyfriend dancing to _that_. "Come on, Doctor," she shouted, putting a hand on his arm. "Let's go find ourselves a couple of drinks and a quiet place to sit."  
"A quiet place to sit? In here? You must be joking!" he yelled over the music, but he allowed her to lead him to the bar. She shouted something at the bartender, who nodded and went off to make their drinks. "This is some party, isn't it?" Tegan yelled in the Doctor's ear. The Time Lord shrugged. "Look, is that Mick Jagger?"   
"I certainly hope not!" he bellowed back. "I understand he's got some odd ideas about candy bars!" The bartender reappeared with two glasses of orange liquid.  
"I ordered us both the same thing!" she shouted. "Seemed easier that way." He looked around for a moment and then pointed at a staircase that led up to the club's second floor. She nodded, collected their drinks, and followed him up the steps.  
The second floor was a balcony overlooking the club's dance floor. It had thick Plexiglas walls that partially insulated it from the sound coming from below, reducing the deafening music to rather loud background noise. The Doctor sat down at a table with a view of the dance floor and motioned to Tegan.  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" she said, wobbling along on her high heels and trying hard not to spill their drinks. When she reached the table and set down the drinks, the Doctor gave her a look.  
"I thought you were meant to be an airhostess," he said dryly.   
"I don't have this sort of footwear when I'm working, Doctor!" she said, sitting down across from him and holding up her foot so he could see her high heels. He took a sip of his drink and made a face.  
"What's in this?" he asked as Tegan sipped her drink.  
"Orange juice," she said with an innocent smile. The Doctor knew better.  
"And…?"  
"Vodka," she replied, taking another sip. "And I told him to make them doubles!"  
"Hmm." The Doctor leaned back in his chair, studying her thoughtfully. "I wonder how many of those drinks it will take for you to tell me why you're treating me like nothing happened." Her eyebrows went up.  
"Sorry?"   
"Shall I remind you what you said when we last parted company?" he asked, his voice so quiet that she barely heard him over the muffled music from the dance floor below.  
"I remember," she said, her cheeks suddenly coloring. She took a quick sip of her screwdriver. "I've decided to… let it slide," she finally said.   
"Ah," he said, his face very carefully expressionless.   
"For Angelina's sake," she added hastily, not meeting his eye.  
"Of course," he agreed.  
"It's not good for her to see us always at each others' throats," she explained.  
"I agree." He watched her take a gulp of her drink, still refusing to meet his eyes. He sighed, recalling that apologies didn't come easily to the strong-willed Tegan. "Would it be easier if I go first?"  
"What?"  
"Tegan, I'm sorry I told you about Benny the way I did. For a Time Lord, my sense of timing is often appallingly poor. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry." Her eyes widened.  
"No, Doctor," she groaned, seeming to crumple under his direct blue gaze. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I overreacted, and I didn't…" Unwilling to finish the thought, she had more of her drink instead.  
"You didn't know how to tell me that you're sorry without feeling like you were losing face," he finished for her. She nodded silently, finding the fact that he understood her so well to be both quite unnerving and oddly comforting. He reached across the table and took her hand. "Shall we just say that neither of us was at our best that night and leave it at that?" She allowed herself a small laugh.  
"That's quite an understatement," she told him with a rueful smile, meeting his gaze for the first time since they'd begun their conversation.  
"I seem to have a knack for it," he said, squeezing her hand.   
"Too right!" she agreed. Looking at him with his wavy brown hair hanging down around his face and his dark blue eyes mirroring the midnight blue of his velvet jacket, Tegan had the sudden urge to use one arm to sweep everything off the table between them, throw him down on it and have her way with him right there. _Get ahold of yourself, my girl,_ she thought, and took a sip of her screwdriver instead.  
"Tegan," he said hesitantly, looking down at their hands clasped together on the table. "Perhaps _this_ isn't very good timing either, but there's something that I should tell you – "  
"Hello!" a new voice said brightly, startling them both. The new arrival was excessively tall and very bony, with dark emerald eyes, high, sharp cheekbones, and a mop of straight shiny black hair that hung down around his face. He wore a scarlet tunic gathered at the wrists and matching scarlet trousers. Tegan recognized his outfit as the type worn under Prydonian robes, and wondered who he was and what he was doing at her daughter's birthday party. The smiling young man had paid a visit to the bar, completing his scarlet ensemble with a Bloody Mary garnished with a celery stalk, and he toasted them with it before taking a big gulp. "Brilliant party! You know, I think I just saw Mick Jagger at the bar!" Tegan glanced at the Doctor, who was regarding the man with a mixture of shock and curiosity.  
"What are you doing here?" he finally asked. "You're not supposed to be here!"  
"Wait, don't tell me," Tegan said to the Doctor, holding up her hand. "He's you, right? Another you, I mean. A future you."   
"Never!" he exclaimed, sounding utterly appalled by the notion.  
"Theta should be so lucky!" the young man said, casually dropping into a chair next to the Doctor. "Miss Jovanka, you grow lovelier with each passing year," he continued, taking her hand out of the Doctor's and kissing it.  
"Have we met?" she asked, frowning suspiciously.  
"Don't you remember me? Ah well, I had that decrepit old body with its dreadfully sour disposition the last time we met. I'm – " He gave her his name, about fifty or sixty musical syllables that had Tegan lost after the first ten.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," she told him, a slight sarcastic edge to her voice.  
"Zeta, that's not very nice," the Doctor admonished mildly.  
"Zeta?" Tegan asked, shocked. "Not Lord Zeta Starkweather?"   
"The very same!" he replied, grinning brilliantly, clinking his glass against hers and drinking deeply. She hadn't gotten the naming pattern exactly right, but he decided to let it slide. "I'm flattered you remembered!"  
"Well, not many Time Lords have the same name as a famous spree killer," she said with a shrug.   
"A spree killer?" Zeta repeated.  
"Yep," Tegan confirmed. "Charles Starkweather. They even based a movie on him and his girlfriend… _Natural Born Killers_, it was called."  
"How entertaining. I must remember to look that up," Zeta said, sipping his drink. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"  
"I didn't think you'd find it very amusing before," she said.  
"Evidently he's more 'fun' in this incarnation," the Doctor informed her dryly. Zeta used the celery stalk garnish to stir his drink, and then pulled it out of his glass and offered it, dripping, to the Doctor.  
"Would you like this for your lapel, Theta?" he asked innocently.  
"Buzz off," the Doctor replied good-naturedly, only not in English and the exact word that he used was not quite the Gallifreyan equivalent of "buzz". Zeta grinned hugely.  
"I've seen your daughter," he suddenly told Tegan, leaning forward in his chair and raising his eyebrows. "She's quite the looker!"  
"Don't even _think_ about it!" the Doctor warned, earning a laugh from the other man.  
"Why should you have all the fun, Theta?" Zeta asked rhetorically.  
"Have as much fun you like," the Doctor replied with a disinterested shrug. "Just don't have any of it with my daughter!"   
"She's over twenty-one now, isn't she?" Zeta asked, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at the Doctor. Tegan saw the gleam in Zeta's eye and immediately knew that he was merely needling the other Time Lord. The Doctor seemed to realize it as well, for he sighed and put on his very best overly patient voice.  
"Is there a reason that you're here, Zeta, or are you just gate-crashing for lack of anything better to do?"  
"Gate-crashing?" Zeta asked with a frown.   
"Showing up at a party uninvited," Tegan told him helpfully.   
"Oh yes," Zeta said, brightening. "You know, one often ends up attending the most interesting parties that way!"  
"Especially since no one who gives interesting parties would ever actually invite you!" the Doctor said, sipping his drink.  
"Well, there _is_ that," Zeta admitted readily. "Not that you can talk, Theta. I recall your name being crossed off quite a few guest lists after that time you swung from a chandelier while drinking wine straight from the bottle at the Lord President's – "  
"Yes, yes, that's ancient history, Zeta," the Doctor said in a bored voice, ignoring Tegan's shocked expression. He saw her making a mental note to ask him about that incident later, and sighed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he told her lamely.  
"You know, you're a very difficult man to find, Theta," Zeta told him in a deceptively casual tone. "I had to use your bio-data extract to track you down."  
"What?" the Doctor asked, caught off-guard by the sudden change of topic. He sat up straight in his chair, frowning. "You used my bio-data extract to find me?" Warning bells were going off in his head, but he kept his tone as level and as casual as Zeta's so as not to alarm Tegan, who was paying very close attention to this exchange.   
"You weren't in your TARDIS," Zeta said with a shrug, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass on the table. He made a point of meeting the Doctor's gaze. "New York is a big city. How else was I supposed to find you?" The warning bells in the Doctor's head were getting louder.  
"Wait a minute, how did you get his bio-data extract?" Tegan asked suspiciously. Zeta and the Doctor exchanged a glance.  
"Very careless of our Lady President to leave such sensitive things lying about like that," Zeta said meaningfully.  
"Very careless," the Doctor agreed quietly, raising his eyebrows at Zeta. Tegan had had enough; something was clearly going on, and she wanted to know what.  
"All right, you two – " she began.  
"Zeta!" Munch exclaimed in surprise as he and a smiling Angelina approached the table. "I didn't expect to see you here!" Zeta frowned at him.  
"I don't believe we've ever met before," he said pointedly. Munch blinked. Now the warning bells in the Doctor's head were absolutely deafening.  
"Riiigght…" Munch was saying slowly. "I'm John Munch," he continued, holding out his hand.   
"And I am Lord Zeta of the House of Starkweather of the Prydonian Order," Zeta told him in reply, shaking the detective's hand. As Munch introduced Angelina to Zeta, Tegan caught the Doctor's eye.  
"What the bloody hell is going on around here, Doctor?" she hissed at him.   
"I don't know, Tegan. But I intend to find out," the Doctor assured her.  
"Why don't you come with me and we'll talk?" Zeta offered, standing.   
"You two can include _me_ in your conversation too," Tegan said firmly, coming to her feet.   
"Sorry," Zeta told her. "Humans aren't invited to this particular party."  
"Now wait a minute – " Tegan began.  
"I don't have time to waste debating this!" Zeta snapped impatiently, all traces of the smiling madcap partier suddenly gone. "She can't come along and that's final," he told the Doctor firmly. _This_ was the Lord Zeta that Tegan remembered, the cold, serious, humorless Time Lord who was all business. He said something in another language that Angelina and Munch at first didn't even recognize as such; to them, it sounded almost like a phrase from a song. The Doctor's eyes widened, and he made a reply in that musical alien tongue. "Precisely," Zeta agreed. "Now, will you come with me?" Without another word, the two Time Lords went off together.  
"What do you suppose that's all about, Mum?" Angelina asked, her eyes huge. Tegan shook her head, sinking back into her seat.  
"I don't know, but it's not good." Both women suddenly looked at Munch. "And you're in on it too!"  
"I never saw him before in my life," Munch insisted innocently.  
"You liar!" Angelina exclaimed. "If you're going to tell us great big whoppers, you should at least try to be convincing about them!" He shrugged.  
"I was told I'm now operating under Laws of Time restrictions and all kinds of terrible things will happen I'm not careful." As Tegan and Angelina goggled at him in astonishment, he suddenly pointed down at someone on the dance floor. "Look at that guy in the red shirt… is that Mick Jagger?"  
  
  
Zeta led the Doctor to his TARDIS, which turned out to be a dumpster behind the club.  
"How appropriate," the Doctor could not resist pointing out dryly. Zeta absently called him a filthy name while searching his pockets for his TARDIS key.  
"And speaking of TARDIS keys," Zeta said, though they hadn't been, "whose brilliant plan was it for your daughter to go about with one strung around her neck?" he asked as he unlocked the dumpster and motioned the Doctor inside.  
"Not mine, I assure you," he answered with a sigh, glancing around the console room. The walls were dark silver with inset roundels that glowed with a faint blue light. The control console echoed this theme, its Time Rotor lit from within by a deep blue glow. "This is a Type 60, isn't it?" Zeta nodded, leading him out of the console room and into the main corridor. "I see what they say about the 60's chameleon circuit is true," the Doctor continued in a musing tone. "It really does turn the exterior into the most ignominious object possible for its current environment."  
"It certainly does," Zeta agreed ruefully. "You should have seen what it became when I made the mistake of taking it to New Orleans for Mardi Gras not long ago!" He pulled open a door and ushered his visitor into an enormous outdoor garden complete with a small waterfall pouring down into a tranquil pool.   
"What a nice room," the Doctor murmured appreciatively. "You'd never know it was indoors." Zeta shrugged.  
"They've gotten better with atmosphere and weather synthesis since the Type 40. Really, you should consider trading in that traveling junk heap of yours for a newer model."  
"That's what everyone tells me," the Doctor agreed. He sat down on a rock near the pool, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to inhale the scent of hundreds of different plants and flowers from more worlds than he could identify offhand. "This is just marvelous… very relaxing."  
"Before you get too relaxed, you should hear what's been going on at home," Zeta said, sitting next to him on the rock.   
"All right," the Doctor agreed, sounding not at all worried about whatever it was Zeta wanted to tell him.  
"The Lady President has used the Eye of Rassilon," Zeta said bluntly.   
_"What?"_ the Doctor exclaimed, nearly falling off the rock. "Why on Gallifrey would Romana do a stupid thing like that?"  
"I am not privy to the inner workings of the High Council, Theta. You would have to ask one of them for the details. The Lady President was quite sketchy with them when I met with her, as you can probably imagine." The Doctor nodded, deep in thought. Zeta glanced at him and decided that getting this over quickly would be better, rather like yanking off an adhesive bandage before the body has time to register the pain. He took a deep breath. "Theta, your daughter is going to be murdered tonight," he blurted out. The Doctor slowly turned his head to regard the other Time Lord.  
"If this is a joke, it's not funny," he said very quietly.  
"It's not a joke, I promise you." The Doctor looked at the ground.  
"Why…" he took a shaky breath, visibly trying to compose himself. "Why would you tell me this when you know that the Laws of Time prevent me from stopping it?" He looked up at Zeta, his dark blue eyes full of puzzlement and hurt. "Why would you do this to me, burden me with this knowledge when you know that I can't… that I mustn't – " Zeta laid a hand on his friend's arm.  
"There is a chance that she will live," Zeta told him quietly. "The Lady President saw that possibility in the Eye, as well as the consequences if she does not. Apparently, Angelina's murder is some kind of linchpin event upon which other key events will turn… and the events if she dies will be utterly catastrophic." The Doctor blinked.  
"So you were sent here – "   
"To warn you," Zeta finished. "Yes, but not the way you think. I can't tell you how she is to be killed, or exactly when, or by whom; I wasn't given that information. I was told to be as oblique as possible when approaching people. When I visited Detective Munch earlier today, I only told him to carry his firearm to the party tonight and to be extra vigilant."  
"And how much are you allowed to tell _me_?" the Doctor asked, his voice low and rough.  
"I've already told you all that I know," Zeta said, rising to his feet with a sad smile. "If I knew more, I'd probably tell you everything, the Laws of Time be damned." The Doctor looked up at him in shock. "Well," Zeta continued, amused by the other Time Lord's surprise, "it's not as though either of us has an excellent record for obeying the rules, is it Theta?"   
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 3, "Catch Of The Day"   
  



	4. 3 Catch Of The Day

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: The song "One of These Things is Not Like The Others" from _Sesame Street_ belongs to The Children's Television Workshop.   
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Catch Of The Day"  
  
  
"I don't see either of your names on the guest list," the doorman frowned, flipping through papers attached to a clipboard.  
"We have invitations to everything," Detective Briscoe told him, flashing his badge.   
"This is police business," Detective Green added, showing his badge as well. The doorman shrugged.  
"I got no beef with the cops. Anyway, they got a huge crowd in there for that bimbo's party – "  
"She's not a bimbo," Green told him firmly.  
"Whatever you say, pal," the doorman agreed, waving the detectives into the club.   
The interior of the club was dark, smoky, and vibrating with deafening music. Briscoe and Green pushed their way through the crowd, often holding up their badges in order to get people to move aside for them. Finally, they reached the bar, which was surrounded by a thick crowd of people lined up for drinks.  
"This is no good!" Green shouted directly into Briscoe's ear. "We'll never find Angelina in this mess!"  
"Just keep your eyes open," Briscoe yelled back. "Maybe we'll luck out."  
  
  
"Thank you," Tegan said as the waiter set another screwdriver in front of her.   
"Are you sure all you want is coffee?" Angelina asked Munch as the waiter put a glass of white wine down on the table.   
"This is fine," Munch assured her. "Are you having fun?"  
"Mmm," she replied, sipping her wine. "I'm having a marvelous time… which is the point, really." She reached under the table for her purse. "I'm just going to run to the ladies'," she said, standing. "Want to come?" she asked Tegan.  
"No, I'll stay here and guard the table."  
"I'll come with you," Munch said, getting up. Angelina laughed.  
"Don't be ridiculous!"  
"Come on, I'll walk with you," he said, putting his arm around her.  
"All right. We'll be right back, Mum." Tegan waved as they walked into the crowd.  
"Tegan Jovanka! My goodness, it's you!" Tegan looked up to see someone familiar standing over her. She took a sip of her drink and tried to think where she'd seen her before. She was a very well kept woman in her forties, with dark eyes and graying hair swept up in a sophisticated style. She wore a tasteful dark purple designer dress that Tegan guessed cost more than she made in year as an airhostess. In a sudden flash of memory, the woman's name came to her.  
"Sarah Jane Smith!" Tegan said, smiling warmly. "It's been ages!"  
"You look just the same as you did when I met you during that horrible business with Rassilon's Tomb," Sarah Jane said, sitting down across from Tegan. "Are you still traveling with the Doctor?"  
"Not exactly," Tegan said wryly, sipping her screwdriver. "So, what are you doing with yourself nowadays?"  
"Well, I'm married," she said, holding up her left hand to display a brilliant diamond ring. "To George Cranleigh. I'm Lady Sarah now, doesn't that sound awfully grand?" Both women laughed. "And I'm editor of British _Vogue_." She made a face. "Not exactly cutting edge journalism, is it?"  
"Maybe not, but it's awfully grand!" Tegan told her, and they laughed again.   
"So, what's your connection to the birthday girl?" Sarah Jane asked. Tegan looked surprised.  
"You mean you didn't know?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "I'm her mother!"  
"Oh! Well that explains where she got that TARDIS key," Sarah Jane said in the satisfied tone of someone who'd just worked out an elaborate mystery.  
"Yeah. Found it in my jewelry box," Tegan agreed.  
"That's what she said, and I've been dying to know how her mother got hold of one… well, now I know!" Sarah Jane peered at Tegan closely. "I never would've guessed you're her mother. You _do_ look just the same! What's your secret?" Tegan sipped her drink and leaned forward, lowering her voice.  
"Pregnancy," she said quietly.   
"Really? I don't have any children, but maybe I should've!" Tegan laughed.  
"I don't think your George Cranleigh's quite got what it takes!" Sarah Jane's eyebrows went up. "No, no, I didn't mean it like _that_," Tegan added hastily. She smiled. "You've seen Angelina. Does she look like someone you've met before?" Sarah Jane thought for a moment, and then her eyes popped open wide.  
"No!" she exclaimed, astounded. Tegan grinned.  
"Yeah," she said ruefully. "Believe it or not."  
"I'm shocked!" Sarah Jane leaned closer. "Tell me _everything_!"  
  
  
"Munch!" Briscoe said with a grin. "What're you doing hanging around outside the ladies' room?"  
"Waiting for Angelina," he replied. "I didn't know she invited you guys!" Briscoe and Green exchanged a look.  
"She didn't," Green said. "Someone else did." Munch took a stab in the dark.  
"Zeta?" The two detectives nodded. "He's sure been a busy little bee today, hasn't he?"  
"Sure has," Briscoe agreed. "Where's the Doctor?" Munch shrugged.  
"He went off somewhere with our mutual friend." A man came out of the men's room and walked past the three detectives, making his way back into the club. Green watched him go.  
"Was that Mick Jagger?" he asked. Suddenly, from within the ladies' room came the distinctive sound of a TARDIS either arriving or departing.   
_"Oh, screw me!"_ Munch yelled in dismay, only he didn't use the word "screw". The three detectives drew their weapons and charged into the ladies' room.   
"Police! Freeze!" Green yelled, though he needn't have bothered. The bathroom was empty save for Angelina's little designer purse sitting on the counter between the sinks.  
"Great," Munch fumed, lowering his weapon and looking around at the empty ladies' room. "Just great."  
"Come on," Briscoe said. "We'd better see if we can find the Doctor and his pal." They holstered their weapons and exited the ladies' room. Before they'd gotten too far into the club, they spied Zeta and the Doctor on their way back to their table. "Doc!" Briscoe shouted over the pounding music. "Hey Doc!"   
"Zeta!" Munch called. The two Time Lords kept walking. Briscoe took a deep breath.  
"Hey Thete!" he yelled as loud as he could. The Doctor stopped walking and turned, frowning. Munch held up Angelina's purse.  
"What's happened?" the Doctor shouted when the three detectives caught up with the Time Lords.   
"Let's go somewhere quiet!" Green yelled. Zeta nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He led them out a back door into an alley containing several dumpsters. Drawing his key from his pocket, he opened one and motioned them inside.  
"What is it, what's happened?" the Doctor asked without preamble. The three detectives quickly explained about the TARDIS sound and the empty ladies' room. Eyes blazing, the Doctor yelled something in his own language and brought his fist down on the control console hard enough to leave a fairly large dent in the metal surface. Briscoe and Green exchanged shocked looks, while Munch suddenly looked apprehensive.  
"Temper, temper," Zeta chided mildly, his hands flying over the controls. "I'll be sending _you_ the bill for getting that dent pounded out, Theta." He paused in his work to use one hand to rake his black hair out of his face, and then glanced briefly at the Doctor. "Do _try_ to pull yourself together and behave like a proper Time Lord for once, would you?"  
"Hey, cut the guy a break – " Green began, but the Doctor interrupted him.  
"No, Zeta is absolutely right. Getting upset isn't helping."  
"It's certainly not helping my TARDIS," Zeta agreed as the Time Rotor began moving.  
"I never thought I'd be glad that it's you and not me who's dating his daughter!" Briscoe told Munch quietly.  
"Yeah, rub it in," Munch said glumly, staring at the deep dent in the control console and imagining a similar one in his skull.  
"You're tracking the other TARDIS?" the Doctor asked Zeta.  
"No, I thought we'd take a trip to a Soho parking garage just for the fun of it," he replied sarcastically. "Honestly, Theta. Sometimes I think your brain is mostly useful for holding the bones of your head apart!" The Doctor was about to make an acid remark along the lines of a fairly useless brain being better than no brain at all when the Time Rotor stopped moving and a soft chime signaled their arrival. The three detectives drew their weapons and headed for the doors. Zeta's eyebrows went up. "You humans are so impetuous. I on the other hand would prefer to see what's outside before I go charging out to meet Destiny. Some of us learn that lesson the hard way, don't we?" He gave the Doctor a pointed look, which the other Time Lord pretended not to see. Zeta muttered something about stupidly getting one's seventh body shot up by a street gang and hit a switch. The panel over the viewscreen slid open.  
"It's a parking garage, Zete," Briscoe said, gesturing at the screen.  
"So it is," he agreed.  
"Doesn't look very dangerous to me," Green added.  
"Hmm." Without further comment, Zeta hit the door switch.  
"Come on," the Doctor said impatiently. They walked out into the parking garage, none of them having any idea that if they only looked to their left, they would see the gray cement stairwell from Romana's vision in the Eye. Glancing back, Zeta saw that his TARDIS had become a bright blue Port-O-Potty with an "Out of Order" sign on the front. He muttered something particularly rude about the obviously incompetent genetic engineers who had loomed the members of the Type 60's design team and hurried to catch up with the others. The Doctor had his TARDIS key out and was holding it at arm's length, dangling from its chain.  
"One of these things is not like the others," he sang under his breath. "One of these things just doesn't belong. Can you guess which thing is doing its own thing – " The key suddenly swung wildly toward a cement support column. "Ah ha!"  
"Like dowsing for water," Green observed.  
"Better," the Doctor told him. "This actually works!" He flipped the key up in the air by its chain, caught it neatly and pocketed it in one smooth motion.   
"That's it, is it?" Zeta asked, pointing at the support column. The Doctor gave him a withering look.  
"No, I thought I'd lead us over here just for the fun of it!" he said sarcastically.  
"Enough!" Munch snapped impatiently. He used his gun to gesture at the support column. "How do we get in there?" Both Time Lords produced their TARDIS keys simultaneously.   
"How do we get in there without whoever's inside being able to see us coming?" Green asked. The Doctor and Zeta exchanged a look.  
"I'm afraid we can't," the Doctor said finally. "We'll just have to hope whoever's inside isn't watching."  
"Oh great," Briscoe said sarcastically. "So much for the element of surprise." The Doctor strode over and stuck his key into the support column. The three detectives took up positions on either side of him, guns at the ready. With a sound reminiscent of pneumatic machinery, the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. Munch crouched low, holding his gun before him with both hands, and slunk forward.   
"Police! Freeze!" they heard Munch yell from the interior of the TARDIS. "Drop your weapon! Drop your – " This was followed by a gunshot and then the sound of some sort of energy weapon being fired. Briscoe and Green hurried inside, guns at the ready. As they entered the console room, they caught a flash of long dark hair as someone ducked into the interior of the TARDIS, leaving a trail of crimson droplets behind; evidently Munch's shot hadn't missed. Munch himself was lying facedown on the console room floor. Briscoe and Green looked torn.  
"Go!" the Doctor yelled at the detectives, motioning them towards the interior door as he knelt at Munch's side. "You're armed, we're not. Don't worry, we'll look after him!"   
"Here!" Green tossed his cell phone to Zeta, who deftly picked it out of the air. "Call 911, give them my name and this address and tell them we've got shots fired and an officer down, and we need back-up and an ambulance at this location!" he instructed. "Can you remember all that?" The Time Lord nodded. "Good."  
"Oh, our kidnapper is armed, Detective Green!" Zeta called helpfully.  
"Yeah, thanks for the hot tip, Zete!" Briscoe said, following his partner into the corridor. Zeta crouched down next to the Doctor, who was rolling Munch over onto his back. His glasses were bent and the left lens was cracked. More serious was the smoking hole in his left shoulder. The Doctor grabbed the charred edges of Munch's shirt in both hands and tore it open. The wound was deep; the Time Lords could see the white glimmer of bone and sinew inside.  
"Staser, looks like," the Doctor said quietly. Zeta sucked air in between clenched teeth.  
"I've never heard of one being used on a human before… will he live, do you think?" The Doctor didn't reply. Instead, he stood and went to the control console, setting coordinates.  
"What about this phone thing?" Zeta asked, holding up Green's cell phone.  
"Forget it," the Doctor replied. "Human medical technology isn't advanced enough to care for him. We've got to take him to Gallifrey."  
"All right," Zeta agreed, rising to his feet and pocketing the cell phone. "I'll follow in my own TARDIS."  
"Wait," the Doctor said, holding up his hand. "The detectives asked us to call for back-up. You'll have to take Detective Munch to Gallifrey in your TARDIS." Zeta nodded and handed the cell phone to the Doctor, who flipped it open and began dialing. Just then, the interior door opened, and Angelina came running into the console room and right into the Doctor's arms.  
"Are you all right?" he asked, holding her at arm's length and inspecting her. She nodded.  
"Just a bit shaken up!" The Doctor sighed with relief and pulled her close. "Oh my God, Munch!" she cried, breaking out of his embrace and running over to where the detective lay on the floor. She knelt on the floor at his side. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked the Doctor, her eyes filling with tears.  
"He will be when we get him to Gallifrey," he assured her, mentally adding _I hope_ to the end of that statement. Briscoe and Green appeared, dragging a handcuffed semiconscious dark-haired woman between them: the Rani.   
"Oh, not her again," the Doctor said, sounding exasperated. He snapped the cell phone shut. "Zeta, you'd better take Detective Munch in your TARDIS… it'll be much faster than this one." Briscoe and Green watched with astonishment as the scrawny Time Lord picked up the detective as effortlessly as if he were a rag doll and carried him out the doors.  
"Wait," Angelina called, racing after him. "I'm coming with you!" The Doctor looked a bit taken aback.   
"Kids! _Oy_, what're you gonna do?" Briscoe asked philosophically.   
"So, how do you like our catch of the day?" Green asked the Doctor, giving their prisoner a little shake. More crimson droplets dripped to the floor.  
"It's not very big," he replied in a musing tone. "And I suspect it's poisonous. But I wouldn't suggest that you throw it back." Briscoe laughed.  
"Come on, let's get her down to the two-seven," Green said. The Doctor shook his head.  
"No, Detective Green. Your judicial system had their chance with her, now it's Gallifrey's turn." He bent over the controls. The outer doors swung shut and the Time Rotor began moving. "I suspect the Castellan and his guards will do a better job of holding onto her than your prison system did."  
"Unlike our prison staff, your guys will know all her tricks," Briscoe said with a shrug.  
"Let's hope so," the Doctor sighed. "All right, let's see where she's been shot," he said briskly.   
"Right arm," Green said as the Doctor walked over. He shifted his hold on the Rani so that the Time Lord could take a look.  
"The bullet appears to have missed anything major." He tipped her head up to feel for the double pulse in her neck and saw a spreading purple bruise on her right cheek. His eyebrows went up.  
"She resisted arrest," Green said, his face expressionless.  
"Did she indeed?" the Doctor asked neutrally, regarding both detectives carefully.   
"She sure did," Briscoe agreed, meeting the Doctor's eye. Green looked at the ceiling and whistled tunelessly.   
"Hmm." The Time Lord went back to his examination, feeling the Rani's double pulse and prying her eyelids open to peer closely at her pupils. "It appears that she'll live," was his verdict.  
"Oh well, can't win 'em all," Briscoe deadpanned.   
  
  
Romana, her Castellan, and a compliment of Chancellery Guards were all waiting for them when the blue police box materialized inside the Capitol.  
"This is quite a reception committee," the Doctor said as he stepped out of the police box, followed by Briscoe and Green, who were dragging the now fully conscious and totally uncooperative Rani between them. "I assume it's not meant for me." Romana gave him a warm smile.  
"No, but it's always good to see you again, Doctor," she told him. The Castellan stepped forward.  
"Detectives," he said brusquely, "if you'd care to bring the prisoner this way…" The Doctor and Romana watched as the Rani was taken away by the detectives, the Castellan, and the guards.   
"Between all of them, there should be enough law enforcement officers to insure her arrival at the detainment facility pending trial," Romana mused.  
"Don't underestimate her, Romana," the Doctor said sternly. "She's like the Master… even if she were dead, I wouldn't trust her."  
"She will probably be dead very soon," Romana mused, taking his arm and leading him towards her private office. "I suspect the prosecution will demand the death penalty for her crimes."  
"And no doubt the High Council will grant it," he agreed. "Has Zeta arrived with my daughter and Detective Munch?"  
"Oh yes, they arrived quite awhile before you did. Materialized in the medical wing. I'm told your daughter's friend is going to be just fine when they're done with him."   
"Thank Rassilon," he said with relief. "Angelina's become quite attached to him, I think." Romana smiled.  
"Yes. I understand the medics had a rather difficult time _detaching_ her so they could treat him!"  
"And how _did_ they treat him?" he asked curiously. "I've never heard of a human getting shot with a staser."   
"From what I understand, they've given him nanites," she confided. The Doctor looked stunned.  
"Nanites? And his immune system hasn't rejected them?" Romana stopped walking and smiled up at him.  
"It seems they've managed to find a nanite donor with sufficient human DNA markers."  
"Of course," he said in a _how could I have been so stupid?_ sort of tone. "Angelina."  
"Yes, Angelina," she agreed. They had reached the door to her office, where she punched a code into a keypad by the door. "Do come in, Doctor," she said as the door slid open. "You and I have much to discuss, and I'm afraid I'll have to choose my words rather carefully."  
"This has something to do with whatever it was you saw when you used the Eye, doesn't it?" he asked, following her into her office and sitting down in a chair in front of her desk.  
"I'm afraid so," she agreed, sitting in her chair.   
"It was awful?"   
"'Awful' doesn't even _begin_ to describe it." The Doctor sighed.  
"All right, let's hear it." He put his elbows on the chair's armrests, steepled his fingers under his chin, and gave her an attentive look.  
"I'm sorry it has to be like this, Doctor," she said apologetically, allowing herself a sad smile. And then she began.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4, "It Sounds Like A Horrid Disease!"  
  
  
  



	5. 4 It Sounds Like A Horrid Disease!

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"It Sounds Like A Horrid Disease!"  
  
  
Angelina sat by Munch's bed, holding his warm hand between her own. His skin was no longer pale and clammy, and as far as she could tell his temperature had returned to normal, meaning that he was no longer in shock. Whatever nanites were, they evidently did their work quickly. She was talking quietly to Munch, murmuring words of encouragement and affection when an oddly shaped shadow fell upon her. She looked up at the new arrival, a dour, formidable-looking elderly Time Lord with dark piercing eyes and a disapproving frown. He wore full Prydonian regalia, which of course Angelina didn't recognize as such; while his robes were unquestionably stately and did add to his air of quiet dignity, she thought his helmet and winged headdress looked bizarre, if not just plain outlandish.   
"Are you one of the medics?" she asked politely, giving him her dazzling supermodel smile. The man was unmoved.  
"I am Lord Gamma of the House of Lungbarrow, Dean of the Prydonian Academy," he proclaimed grandly.   
"I'm Angelina," she said simply, offering her hand for him to shake. He glared at it as though offended.  
"I know who you are," he snapped contemptuously. He suddenly glared down at Munch. "A human in a Time Lord medical facility," he murmured in a _What is the world coming to?_ sort of tone, his voice dripping venom.  
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, beginning to get annoyed. His dark eyes shifted back in her direction.  
"And _you_," he continued.  
"What about me?" she asked curiously.  
"You should not even exist!" Her eyebrows went up.  
"Oh well, bad luck there!" she said, amused. "I'm afraid it's rather too late to do anything about it. Though if you feel really strongly about it, you could always pop into a time machine, go back a few years and offer my father a condom!" Her words and her tone absolutely infuriated the venerable old Time Lord.  
"You will _never_ be admitted to the Prydonian Academy!" he told her, livid.  
"Oh damn!" she said in a tone of rather poorly feigned disappointment. "What on Earth will I tell my parents?" Being a Time Lord, he answered her question as literally as he could.  
"You can tell them this, that the Lungbarrows are all in agreement that you will not be recognized as one of us!" he told her angrily. If he was hoping to upset her with this news, he was to be gravely disappointed.   
"Who wants to be a Lungbarrow anyway?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "It sounds like something horrible… a really awful sort of disease, maybe." Lord Gamma's eyes were dark with fury.  
"When I tell Lord Theta how you've spoken to me – " he began.   
"Oh no, not Lord Theta!" she protested with mock dismay.  
" – he will be _quite annoyed_!" the Time Lord finished sternly. Though she had very little idea what this whole conversation was all about, she was suddenly just as furious as he was.  
"Oh yes, run and tell this Lord Theta person all about it! While you're at it, tell him that _he_ can kiss my ass too!" she snapped, rising to her feet, her deep blue eyes flashing with anger. "Along with Lord Alpha, Lord Omega, and everyone in between!" She advanced on him, patting her rear. "The line forms _here_, gentlemen!" Lord Gamma blinked.  
"I – " he began. She barely paused for breath.  
"How dare you come in here to bother me with your pointless nonsense?" She gestured at Munch. "Can't you see I'm occupied with more important things? Judging by your behavior, you probably don't have anyone who gives a toss about you, but I happen to care very deeply for this man and I'm very worried about him. So you can just take your bad attitude, your incomprehensible twaddle, your ridiculous outfit, and your silly hat and bugger off!"  
"Well, I _never_!" he huffed, very offended.  
"Well, perhaps you _should_!" she shouted after him as he left.  
"Remind me not to make you mad," Munch said sleepily from the bed. With a little cry of delight, Angelina raced back to his side.  
"Are you alright?" she asked, and then stifled any answer he might have given by kissing him soundly on the lips.  
"If this is how they treat patients on Gallifrey, they'd better admit me to the hospital right away, 'cause I'm not a well man!" Angelina looked up to see Briscoe and Green standing in the medical ward's doorway. Briscoe clutched his heart theatrically and went on. "I tell ya, I'm dyin'!" A medic hurried over to the two detectives, looking concerned.  
"You require medical attention?" he asked Briscoe, peering at the human worriedly.   
"Yeah, he needs an enema!" Munch joked.  
"Better make it a high colonic," Green added.  
"Everyone's a comic," Briscoe complained, making his way over to Munch's bed, followed by the medic and Green.  
"You are awake," the medic stated.  
"Hey, you're good, Doc," Briscoe told the medic mildly. "Nothing gets by you." Briscoe watched the medic pick up Munch's wrist to feel his pulse, and then pull aside the blanket and inspect his shoulder, where no sign of the grisly staser wound remained.   
"It appears that you are completely healed," the medic told Munch. "I have never treated a human before and I am quite satisfied with the results," he continued, looking very pleased with himself.  
"Glad to be your guinea pig," Munch said, sitting up. "Any idea where my clothes went?" He blinked and peered around, squinting. "And my glasses?"  
"Your clothing has been cleaned and mended, and the damage to your glasses has been repaired," the medic said. "I'll send someone to fetch them."  
"Thanks," Munch said, watching him go. "So, this is Gallifrey," he mused aloud. "It's hard to believe I'm actually on another planet."  
"You've _always_ been on another planet, Munch," Briscoe told him amiably.   
"If you need to be convinced that you're on another planet, spend some time talking to the locals," Green said ruefully.   
"Everyone here in the medical center's been terribly nice," Angelina said. "But some of the others…" She shook her head. "Very strange." The medic returned with Munch's clothes folded in a neat pile.  
"Here you are, Detective Munch," he said, placing the bundle at the foot of the bed. "I must say, I've never seen such interesting clothing!" He gave Briscoe and Green a quick once-over. "Does everyone on Earth dress like this?"  
"Only if they're homicide detectives," Briscoe told him.  
"Yeah, we're not exactly known as the snappy dressers of the world," Green added.  
"Well, I'll just leave you to it, shall I?" Angelina said to Munch, indicating his clothes. She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I'm going to see if I can find my father and find out about getting home."  
"All right," he agreed, reaching for his clothes. She bent to give him another kiss before departing. Briscoe and Green exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised.  
"It was nice of her to leave while you get dressed," Briscoe said meaningfully.  
"Yeah, very polite," Green agreed. Munch gave them both a look.  
"We're not sleeping together, all right?" he asked, exasperated. "Is that what you wanted to know? Lots of kissing, a little petting, but no sex. It's like being back in high school!" His tone was frustrated, and Briscoe and Green were openly grinning. _Leave it to Munch,_ their looks seemed to say. _Only someone with his luck could somehow manage to get together with a chaste supermodel!_ "I'm glad you guys think it's funny!" Munch told them, getting out of bed and beginning to dress.  
"Hey, I saw what the Doctor did to Zeta's control panel," Green said. "If I were you, I'd be damn glad I hadn't slept with her!"  
"Yeah, that's definitely the bright side," Munch agreed.  
"Let me guess," Briscoe said. "The not-so-bright side is that she wants a ring on her finger before you get to boldly go where no man has gone before. Am I right?"   
"That's an affirmative, Mister Spock," Munch said wryly.  
"At least if you marry her, the Doctor won't bash your head in when you finally do it," Green pointed out. "Well, probably not, anyway," he added.  
"The divorce could get messy," Briscoe mused.   
"Divorce?" Munch squeaked out. "We're not even engaged and already you're talking about divorce!"  
"Hey, your track record at marriage is worse than mine," Briscoe reminded him with a shrug.  
"She'll probably make you sign a pre-nup, you know," Green told him thoughtfully. "Probably has a team of lawyers drawing it up as we speak."  
"You know, I love how I can always count on you guys for moral support," Munch said sarcastically.  
"That's what friends are for," Green said.  
"Yeah, don't bother to thank us," Briscoe told him magnanimously.  
"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it!"   
  
  
As Angelina left the medical ward, she encountered the Doctor and Zeta on their way in to visit Munch.  
"They say he's fully recovered, thank God," she told them. "He's getting dressed now and hopefully we can get out of here soon."   
"I can take you all back whenever you're ready," Zeta told her.   
"How was your meeting with the President?" she asked the Doctor, looking distracted.   
"Very informative," he said dryly.   
"Good." She glanced up and down the corridors apprehensively.  
"Expecting a visitor?" Zeta asked.   
"I hope not," she told him with feeling. "I'm not sure I could take being yelled at by another grumpy old geezer. I just might say something that I'll only regret later."  
"Someone yelled at you?" the Doctor asked, frowning. She shook her head.  
"Not exactly. He just bitched about a human getting treatment in the medical center and… well, truthfully I didn't have a clue what he was on about half the time. I got a bit cheeky with him and he threatened to send another old codger around to yell at me some more."  
"Who was this paragon of manners and hospitality?" Zeta asked ironically.   
"Someone called Lord Gamma Lungbarrow, or something like that." The two Time Lords exchanged a glance.  
"Those Lungbarrows," Zeta said seriously. "Quite the bunch of pompous asses."  
"Hmm." The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  
"Yes, well, I don't think I should create yet another scene on your planet today, so I'd really like to clear off before Lord Theta shows up to give me a good ticking off as promised," she told them. The Doctor blinked.  
"What?"  
"Oh, he said he's going to tattle about me to someone called Lord Theta and that he wouldn't be pleased," she told him with a shrug.  
"Oh my," Zeta said, a huge smile forming on his lips. "I do _so_ hope he finds Lord Theta and complains to him about you! What I wouldn't give to witness _that_…"  
"As if I give a fig what anyone here thinks about me," she said scornfully. "Imagine, he actually thought I'd care that I'll never be admitted to some Academy or get to be a Lungbarrow." She made a face. "A Lungbarrow. I told him it sounds like some kind of horrid disease."   
"Very close," Zeta told her, laughing. The Doctor looked considerably less amused.  
"He said those things to you?" he asked in a deceptively calm, quiet voice. Only someone who knew him very well would have realized how furious he was.  
"Yes, and more besides," she told him. "Really, I don't care about it. I just don't want another scene here at the medical center if this Lord Theta comes 'round to let me have it."  
"I don't think you have to worry about that," the Doctor told her dryly.  
"Are you going to go shout at Gamma?" Zeta asked him hopefully.  
"Do you think it would accomplish anything?"  
"Aside from providing no end of amusing gossip for the rest of the Prydonians, probably not," Zeta said regretfully.  
"Then there's your answer," the Doctor said.  
"Good," Angelina told him. "I think I've been quite rude and disruptive enough for both of us today."  
"It's all right, you were provoked," the Doctor told her gently. He looked at Zeta. "I think I'd prefer to handle this with a bit more subtlety than storming into his office and yelling at him." Zeta's eyebrows went up.  
"Oh? Sounds like fun!"  
"It would be a shame if talk of Gamma's behavior in the medical ward today were to get out, wouldn't it?"  
"Do you mean his overt prejudice towards a human, the very same human who courageously and at great danger to himself helped to apprehend the Rani?" Zeta asked. "Or did you mean his unforgivably rude treatment of one of our Lady President's personal guests, the beloved daughter of one of her oldest and dearest friends?"  
"Surely neither would enhance his reputation," the Doctor said with a smile. "Especially not among the boot-lickers who are always jockeying for our Lady President's favor."  
"Very true. Important positions, such as, oh, I don't know… Dean of the Prydonian Academy, for example… have been lost over less," Zeta reminded him solemnly.  
"Wouldn't that be a shame?" the Doctor asked regretfully.  
"Oh, it would indeed. I would feel terrible for him." Zeta paused for a beat. "Consider the word already spread," he assured the Doctor, grinning. "I think I know exactly the ears to whisper in when I return from taking you back to Earth." Meanwhile, Angelina had been listening to this exchange with growing surprise.  
"You two are a real couple of connivers, aren't you?" she said, her tone somewhere between disgust and admiration.  
"We're Prydonians," Zeta told her with a shrug, his tone suggesting that this fact explained it all.  
"Connivers, Prydonians… six of one, half a dozen of the other," the Doctor added helpfully.  
"I'm suddenly glad that I'm not to be one," she told them, shaking her head.  
"Don't tell me there's no ruthless backstabbing going on in the world of high fashion!" the Doctor said, raising his eyebrows.   
"Well…" she began in a conceding tone.  
"And I bet you're quite good at that game, aren't you?" Zeta added knowingly. Angelina shrugged, unwilling to reply.  
"Are you kids ready to hit the road?" Briscoe's voice asked. They turned to see the three detectives approaching from the medical ward.  
"I am," Angelina replied. "But I'm not sure if these two are finished plotting ways to get their old headmaster sacked."  
"Sacked?" Zeta repeated, sounding insulted. "Only sacked? My dear, you quite underestimate us!"  
  
  
Only an hour of local time had gone by when Zeta's TARDIS materialized in the alley behind the club. As his passengers filed out, he noted that his time capsule had resumed its previous form.  
"Lord Zeta's Flying Dumpster," he noted acidly as the Doctor stepped out.  
"Mmm. It has a certain _je ne sais quoi_, don't you think?" the other Time Lord asked as the small group walked toward the club's back door.  
"Oh, absolutely," Zeta agreed in that same acid tone.  
"Hey, it could've been worse, Zete," Briscoe told him. "It could've turned into a huge statue of a naked guy."  
"With a six foot willy!" Angelina added.  
"Or a sewage treatment plant," Munch suggested.  
"Or a brothel," Green supplied.   
"Or a crack house," Briscoe mused.  
"The Oscar Meyer Weinermobile!" Green put in.  
"A barrel of toxic waste!" Munch exclaimed.  
"A lingerie shop!" Angelina offered.  
"Oh my," Zeta said, looking a bit alarmed at this spontaneous catalog of mortifying possibilities. "I don't think I'll be coming back to Earth with it until I get the chameleon circuit sorted out once and for all!"  
"Look on the bright side," the Doctor told him. "At least it's not _stuck_ as a dumpster!"  
"True," Zeta agreed, and snickered. "Lord Theta's Flying Phone Booth."  
"Lord Theta's Flying Police Box," the Doctor corrected punctiliously.   
"Ah, but 'Lord Theta's Flying Phone Booth' sounds so much more… hmm… what was the word you used before?" Zeta's brushstroke eyebrows came together in thought, and then he suddenly brightened. "Oh yes. _Ignominious_." The Doctor laughed. Angelina turned to look at him, her deep blue eyes wide.  
"Wait a minute, _you're_ Lord – " she began, but they had reached the door and Munch was already escorting her inside, where the deafening music made further conversation impossible. As they passed the dance floor, Angelina pointed at someone in the crowd. "Look!" she screamed, trying to be heard over the pounding music. "Dancing with Heidi… is that Mick Jagger?" Munch shouted a reply that she couldn't make out.  
"We'd better find Tegan!" the Doctor yelled at Zeta. "We've lost an hour… she's probably pretty angry by now!" They climbed the steps to the balcony, where the noise faded to a more reasonable level. "Now, where was she sitting?"  
"Oh, look! It's the birthday girl!" a male voice called out. Angelina stopped at a table where four men were sitting with drinks. The man who had called out to her rose to his feet and kissed both of her cheeks.   
"Isaac," Angelina said with a nod to the standing man, "Calvin, Tommy, John." Briefly, she introduced the men to the detectives and the Time Lords. "And this is Zeta – "  
"Oh, he's _marvelous_!" Isaac exclaimed, moving closer to peer at the suddenly discomfited Time Lord. "Isn't he marvelous, Calvin?" The other designer came to his feet.  
"Do you model?" Calvin asked.  
"No, I – " Zeta began.  
"Well, you simply _must_ be in my next show," Tommy said, also standing.   
"After he does _my_ show, bitch!" Isaac said. "I saw him first!"  
"I'm sure he'd rather go with a more established designer for his debut," Calvin said smugly.  
"But I don't – " Zeta began. Isaac grabbed the Time Lord's wrist and held his arm up.  
"Marvelous," the designer sighed. "Such long limbs. And those cheekbones! You could use them to split kindling!"  
"And those eyes!" Tommy gushed. "Like emeralds!"  
"But look at this haircut," Calvin said with dismay, grabbing a piece of the Time Lord's hair and holding it out from his head. The Doctor, Angelina and the detectives all exchanged a look, with the Doctor clearly wondering how long Zeta was going to continue to tolerate all this. "And the style… or should I say the _lack_ of style!" Calvin was saying. "John, what can you do with it?" The hairstylist stood and regarded the Time Lord with a critical eye.  
"Well," he finally said, reaching up to grab his own handful of shiny black hair, "I'd begin by – "  
_"Excuse me,"_ Zeta said coldly, trying to shake off the four humans and their hot, grasping hands.  
"What?" Tommy asked, clearly puzzled. Seeing trouble on the horizon, Angelina tried to intervene.  
"You know, I think you'd better – " she began, trying to pull all four men away simultaneously, which turned out to be a losing battle. As soon as she'd pried one set of fingers off of the increasingly annoyed Time Lord, another pair of grasping hands would replace them. It was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.  
"Come on, Honey," John said to Zeta, grabbing his chin. "Just turn your head for me, Sweetie. I want to see how your hair falls on that side."  
"Oh dear," the Doctor said quietly, trying very hard to stifle his laughter. On the other hand, the three detectives weren't even trying. They were howling with laughter at the sight of Zeta being poked, prodded, groped, pawed, and pulled this way and that by the four determined men.  
"Ooo, what a nice firm little _butt_!" one of the designers exclaimed. Angelina couldn't see exactly what was going on, but when she saw Zeta's eyes pop open in surprise she had a pretty good idea what must've happened.  
"That will be quite _enough_!" Zeta suddenly proclaimed in an icy voice, wrenching himself away from the four men and drawing himself up to his full height, his dark green eyes blazing with indignation. "I am a Time Lord of Gallifrey, not some brainless little clothes rack!"  
"Ooo, Miss Thang's got a little 'tude going on!" Isaac observed in a snarky tone. At this point, the Doctor couldn't hold out any longer; he gave in and joined the detectives in helpless laughter.  
"Isaac," Angelina said warningly, laying a restraining hand on his arm. She glanced at the other three men. "Really, you're all being quite rude! How would you guys like to be manhandled by four strangers in the middle of a club?" There was a very long silence at that question, filled with much throat-clearing and overly innocent glancing about. "Ahem. Well, anyway, obviously Zeta doesn't like it!" she finished a bit lamely. Gradually, the Doctor and the detectives were able to get their laughter under control.  
"Well, I don't know _who_ he thinks he is – " Tommy began, sounding miffed.  
"I am Lord Zeta of the House of – "  
"All right, all right," the Doctor said hastily, stepping between the Time Lord and the four humans. "Noninterference, remember?" the Doctor reminded Zeta quietly, grasping his arm and leading him away. "Really, Zeta," he chided mildly. "Do _try_ to pull yourself together and behave like a proper Time Lord!" Zeta opened his mouth to issue a caustic retort but was interrupted by Calvin's voice calling after them.  
"Oh I'm sorry! We didn't realize you two were together!" The Time Lords stopped walking and turned.  
"I beg your pardon?" the Doctor inquired politely. The three detectives were once again lost to helpless laughter.  
"We didn't know you're a couple," Isaac said.   
"Why would you think we're – " Zeta began. Suddenly aware of the Doctor's hand on his arm, he pulled away with a scowl. "We are _not_ a couple," Zeta said coldly. "Certainly I could do much better than _him_, don't you think?" Angelina broke out laughing at the expression on the Doctor's face; for once in his lives, he appeared to be totally at a loss for words. Zeta stalked away into the crowd with enormous dignity, taking care that no one saw the satisfied smile on his lips.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5, "It's A Hell Of A Town!"  
  



	6. 5 It's A Hell Of A Town

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: The song "New York, New York" belongs to Leonard Bernstein.  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"It's A Hell Of A Town!"  
  
  
The Doctor would be quite relieved to learn that Tegan wasn't angry about his prolonged absence – indeed, she didn't even seem to notice it – nor did she have the slightest bit of curiosity about where he'd been or what he'd been doing. He would be slightly less pleased to learn the reason for this.  
Still blissfully unaware of Tegan's lack of ire or the reason for it, he approached the table warily, where he saw Tegan chatting with an older dark-haired woman that he felt he should know. When his brain finally compensated for years gone by and put a name to her face, his eyes widened in surprise.  
"Sarah Jane?" he asked, sounding shocked. The two women looked up at him and immediately burst into laughter.  
"Oh yes, it's me Doctor!" Sarah Jane agreed, sounding very drunk indeed. She hauled herself to her feet and inspected him carefully. "My, how you've changed!" she exclaimed.  
"Yes, several times, actually," he replied absently. He looked down at Tegan. "Tegan, do you think we might – " To his utter astonishment, Sarah Jane cut him off by leaning up and giving him a rather sloppy kiss on the lips. She was quite thorough about it too, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him close to insure that he wouldn't escape until she was completely finished with him.   
"I'm sorry, I've been dying to do that for years," she admitted giddily when she finally released him.   
"I'm flattered," he murmured, not knowing what else to say. She swayed precariously on her high heels, giggling breathlessly. He caught her elbow when she seemed in danger of falling, steered her gently into her seat, and then sat down next to Tegan.  
"Well, Tegan here's told me you know what to do about a woman now, not like when I knew you!" The Doctor looked at the very drunk Tegan in dismay.  
"Sorry, Doc," Tegan giggled. "I've had a few drewscrivers while you were gone!"  
"We invented a new drink, Doctor," Sarah Jane told him. "In your honor. Orange juice, champagne, Chambord, and vodka. Sonic Screwdrivers!" Tegan picked up a glass of reddish-orange liquid and toasted him with it.  
"Oh no," he groaned, putting his head in his hands and imagining the shape the two women would be in the following morning. Their hangovers were sure to be monumental.  
"Tegan told me you did it in the Cloisters!" Sarah Jane suddenly exclaimed. She glanced at Tegan. "Weren't those stone benches hard on your back?" she asked curiously.   
"It was up against a pillar, actually," Tegan told her. "And yeah, it was a bit hard on the back." The Doctor sighed, picked up Tegan's Sonic Screwdriver and downed half of it. "Hey! That's my drink!" she protested.  
"I think you've had enough already, don't you?" he asked rather pointedly. Angelina and Munch suddenly appeared at the table.  
"Hello, Lady Sarah," Angelina said.  
"Hiya," Sarah Jane replied, waving drunkenly. Tegan exploded into giggles. Angelina shook her head in disgust.  
"I don't believe this," she muttered.  
"Oh look, it's Drunk and Drunker," Munch said dryly, causing the two women to dissolve into fresh giggles.  
"Listen, we've only come over to say goodbye," she told the Doctor. "I know it's my party, but I've really had enough for one night." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later, all right?" He nodded. "Oh my God!" she blurted out, staring over his head at something on the dance floor.  
"What, is it Mick Jagger?" Sarah Jane asked. Angelina shook her head.  
"Look," she told the Doctor, pointing. "Your friend's dancing, and not by himself, either!" He turned in his chair to look down at the dance floor where Zeta was dancing with a beautiful brunette model whom he vaguely recognized from a magazine cover that Angelina had once pointed out to him. The other partygoers had cleared the floor for the two dancers, who were going at it quite enthusiastically.   
"Those two should get a room," Munch said, closely echoing the thoughts of many of the other people watching. Down on the dance floor, Zeta ran his hands up the sides of the girl's body, and then pulled her against him. He looked down into her eyes as they moved their bodies together in a very suggestive manner and he sang along with the Rolling Stones:  
_  
Ride like the wind at double speed  
I'll take you places that you've never never seen!  
Start it up, love the day when we will never stop never stop  
Never never never stop!  
Start me up, I'll never stop never stop  
  
You, you, you'd make a grown man cry  
You, you'd make a dead man come_  
  
"Oh dear," the Doctor murmured. He picked up Tegan's glass and finished off the rest of her Sonic Screwdriver.  
  
  
The sound of the TARDIS dematerializing woke Tegan from her fitful sleep. She groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes. She tried to go back to sleep, but her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She glanced at the clock: 5:19 AM. _Thank God I don't have to work today,_ she thought, sitting up carefully and watching as the room spun. She blinked, and the sensation dissipated. She got to her feet and wobbled unsteadily to the bathroom, cursing herself for her part in inventing a drink called the Sonic Screwdriver, and cursing herself again for stupidly drinking so damn many of them the previous night.  
  
  
Frank carefully backed the delivery truck into the alley.   
"There better be somebody here this time," Jim groused. "I ain't takin' all this beer back to the warehouse again just so's the guy who owns this joint can bust my balls about not gettin' his beer delivery."  
"It was his own fault," Frank reminded his partner with a shrug. "No one was here to sign for it." He opened the door and jumped down out of the truck, hearing Jim do the same. Walking to the back of their truck, they suddenly saw the front of a dumpster swing open. To their astonishment, a beautiful brunette woman whose face they'd seen on magazine covers and in lingerie ads on billboards in Times Square skipped out, shouldering her purse and beaming happily at the deliverymen.  
"Hey, guys," she chirped cheerfully. "How's it going?" Too stunned to answer, they watched her go. She let her purse slide down her arm, catching and swinging it jubilantly by its handle as she exited the alley with a spring in her step and a satisfied smile on her face. They jumped in surprise as a strange sound filled the alley, spinning around just in time to see the dumpster fade into nothingness. The deliverymen exchanged a look.   
"Whaddya know," Frank finally said. Jim broke into a huge grin.  
"New York, New York, it's a hell of a town!' he sang as they headed for the back door of the club in search of someone to sign for the beer order.  
  
  
Tegan finally noticed the envelopes when she returned from the bathroom. They were carefully placed on the pillow next to hers. The top one had Tegan's name written across it in familiar handwriting. For some reason, she felt a cold chill of dread go down her back at the sight of it. She forced herself to go over and pick it up, noting that the one beneath it was addressed to Angelina. Her sense of dread increased, and she frantically tore the envelope open and yanked the enclosed letter out, sinking down on the edge of the bed to read.  
  
_My Dear Tegan, _the letter began._  
  
I'm sorry I didn't wait until you were awake to tell you goodbye in person; I was worried if I did I wouldn't be able to leave, which I'm afraid I must do… as little as you will probably like it.  
  
I promise I'm not running out on you or Angelina. There is nothing I would like more in the Universe than to be able to stay in New York with you both (for as long as you'd be able to tolerate me anyway!) especially since I think you and I reached a bit of an understanding last night. Unfortunately, it appears that life has other plans for me.  
  
I wish I had time to write down all of the things I want to say, but I have to leave as soon as possible and truthfully I'm not sure I'd know where to begin. I may be more human in this body (as I told you a few months ago), but I'm afraid I really haven't gotten much better at expressing my feelings. There's just too much to say and not enough time for me to figure out how to say it, so this will have to suffice. I love you, Tegan. I loved you in my fifth and I've never stopped loving you.  
  
I hope to see you soon, when you can return to me the other two envelopes I've left there on that pillow. I am as always optimistic and believe that there's little chance you'll get word from Gallifrey to give Angelina her envelope and to mail the other one. Of course, I know I can count on you to carry out my wishes if it comes to that._  
  
Tegan looked up from the letter.   
"Oh dear God," she moaned, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "Oh dear God."  
  
_Kiss Angelina for me and tell her I'm sorry I had to dash off without saying goodbye and that I'll try my best to be back as quick as I can. Please don't say anything that would make her worry; I don't want to burden her with that. I didn't want to burden you with it either, but I felt I owed you some sort of explanation for my actions. _  
  
[Something else was written here but it had been hastily scratched out and was now illegible].  
  
_Brave heart, Tegan._  
  
The letter was signed with an elaborately scrawled string of Gallifreyan text that Tegan recognized as the Doctor's real name.  
"Oh dear God," Tegan repeated. She didn't know this particular Doctor quite as well as she'd known the fifth one, but she knew him well enough to be able to read between the lines; he was going somewhere or was going to do something very dangerous and he didn't believe that he would survive. _But if he dies, he'll regenerate…_ It suddenly hit her that he hadn't asked her to explain regeneration to Angelina, and she realized that he hadn't thought it was necessary to prepare her for that eventuality because he truly didn't believe that he would be coming back at all, either in the same body or a in a new one.   
Tegan put her face in her hands and sobbed.  
  
  
Days crawled by like weeks, weeks crawled by like months, months crawled by like years, and still there was no word either from or about the Doctor. Tegan thought she would go mad soon if she didn't find out something. She had put his letter to her in the drawer of her nightstand along with the one addressed to Angelina and the third letter, which puzzled her. It was a stamped envelope addressed to _Mrs. Rachel Weisman_ at a New York address that Tegan recognized as being right there in Manhattan. In the corner where the return address belonged, the Doctor had written the Greek letters _theta_ and _sigma_ and nothing else. The curiosity was nearly killing her, and she longed to steam the letter open and read it but was prevented from doing so by a hardened dollop of scarlet sealing wax impressed with the Prydonian seal. _He did that deliberately,_ she thought ruefully, slightly chagrinned that he obviously knew her so well. She had gone on the Internet and looked up Rachel Weisman at the address on the envelope and had found a phone number, but she lacked the courage to make the call. What would she say, anyway? _My name's Tegan Jovanka, who the hell are you?_ No, that would hardly do. So the letter to the mystery woman sat in the drawer with the other two, and she longed for the day when he stood safely before her and she could return it to him un-mailed and unopened... and demand an explanation, of course. In the meantime, Tegan tried not to think about any of those letters from the Doctor or what kind of insane danger he might be facing. Instead, she buried herself in her work, taking extra shifts and offering to fill in for stews who were on vacation or needed time off for whatever reason.   
Meanwhile, Angelina was going on with her life as though nothing was wrong. Tegan was determined to shield her daughter for as long as possible from what was likely to be a crushing blow, and hadn't yet told the girl anything. She forced herself to put on a happy face whenever Angelina was around, pretending that things were completely normal and that the Doctor was just off gallivanting around the cosmos as usual and would be back any time. It was a schizophrenic existence and one that was becoming increasingly difficult for her to maintain.   
She was in the kitchen making dinner when the familiar sound of a materializing TARDIS filled the apartment. With a cry of joy, she hurriedly wiped her hands on a dishtowel and ran into the living room where she saw a large oak wardrobe standing in the corner that the police box always occupied on its visits. _Oh, he's fixed the chameleon circuit,_ she told herself frantically. _That's it, he's fixed it and now it works properly and he's back and everything's going to be OK…_ The wardrobe's door swung open and Zeta appeared, wearing long scarlet and orange robes. His face was carefully neutral as was fitting for a Time Lord of such high rank, but his expressive dark green eyes silently said it all. She went to sit on the sofa, motioning for him to join her. He reached over and took her hand, and they sat in silence for a long while.  
"How?" she finally asked in a low voice, not looking at him. He shrugged.  
"No one knows," he replied. "Theta's eighth incarnation simply does not exist any longer. The other seven are all still there in their own time streams, but his eighth has gone."  
"Oh my God," she moaned. "So he's dead? Is that what you're telling me?"  
"I don't know. We've never seen anything like this. He's simply gone."   
"So he could come back," she said quietly, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes. He shrugged again.  
"I suppose he could," he agreed. "Anything's possible. As I said, we've never seen anything like this. People don't just vanish from their time streams without a trace!"   
"Not even Time Lords?"  
"_Especially_ not Time Lords." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Miss Jovanka."  
"Call me Tegan," she said absently. "Wait a minute, what's being done about all this?"   
"Our Lady President has used the Matrix to look for him. She wanted to use the Eye of Rassilon as well, but the High Council forbade it. She's got people working day and night trying to work out what's happened to him."  
"And that's it?"  
"They've tried using his TARDIS's recall circuit, but – "  
"Oh, he dismantled that _ages_ ago," she said dismissively.  
"I might have known," he said, nodding.  
"Has anyone tried actually leaving Gallifrey and _looking_ for him?" she asked. He tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful.  
"Go and look for him, hmm? Ah, a novel approach to the problem. I like the way your mind works." She gave him one of her patented looks, and he abandoned the sarcasm. "Yes, Tegan… _I_ have looked for him. He left this apartment, continued to exist for a week or so as counted in local time, and then simply vanished. I personally visited his last known coordinates and found absolutely no trace of him."  
"You searched the place thoroughly?"  
"As thoroughly as possible. It was open space. Not very many places to hide, not even for Theta, who is very good at hiding when he needs to be."  
"Maybe a spaceship picked up the TARDIS with him on board."  
"Possibly," he agreed with a shrug. "That doesn't explain how he vanished from his time stream."  
"Rabbits!" she exclaimed, frustrated. "Wait a minute, could someone have used the Time Scoop on him? Taken him to the Death Zone on Gallifrey? I remember when we landed there, the coordinates registered as being no time and no place!" Zeta shook his head.  
"That machinery was dismantled and destroyed under Flavia's direct supervision not long after your pleasant stay at our cozy little vacation spot."   
"What if someone's built something _like_ it?"  
"Impossible," he said immediately.  
"Why?"  
"That technology came from Rassilon himself. It exists nowhere else in the universe." She was silent for awhile, thinking.  
"Could something have gone wrong with his TARDIS? Could it have taken him off somewhere outside of time and space and then left him trapped there?" He considered it for a moment.  
"I don't think so," he finally said. "That ancient Type 40 of his is an unreliable piece of junk fit only for display in a museum devoted to prehistoric artifacts, but I don't think that even it could malfunction with such spectacular creativity." Seeing the look in her eyes, he sighed. "But of course I will look into it. Perhaps the experts will know something about the 40's design that I do not."  
"All right. And I'm not going to say anything about this to Angelina yet… just in case you find something out." Seeing the desperate hope in her dark brown eyes, Zeta just couldn't bring himself to say anything to quash it and so he simply nodded. She looked up at him. "Thank you for coming here and telling me what's happening."  
"Of course, Tegan," he said gently. He was beginning to see what his old friend saw in humans; though they would never achieve his species' level of technological and intellectual advancement, they had a force of personality that was completely unlike anything one saw on Gallifrey among the cool, remote Time Lords. They had not trained away or lost through genetic engineering most of their emotions, and as a result they came across as being far more vibrant and alive than any Time Lord that Zeta knew... aside from Theta, who had been a notorious hellraiser in the younger years of his first incarnation. Tegan was still staring up at him with those hopeful eyes, and he had a sudden impulse to pull her into his arms, to offer her comfort in the human fashion and perhaps even find some for himself in return.   
Tegan was startled when Zeta released her hand and put his arms around her, drawing her close. She allowed the embrace and relaxed against him, her face buried in his chest. She breathed in the faint, slightly stale scent of the recycled air of Gallifrey's capitol that lingered in his robes and caught a richer scent underneath that made her think of cinnamon and nutmeg and old parchment. He rested his cheek on top of her head and his black hair fell down around her face, releasing more of that spicy paper scent. An odd thought occurred to her, that the scent of the Doctor's body had not been at all like this, so oddly different, so totally alien. For the first time, the thought that she might never see him again entered her mind as an actual possibility rather than an abstract concept; though she had cried when she had read his farewell letter, she had never truly believed that he wouldn't return eventually, probably with some hair-raising tale of a mind-bogglingly dangerous misadventure involving saving the whole Universe from some unimaginable evil.  
With a sigh, she put her arms around Zeta and held him tightly, listening to the double thump of his hearts and feeling the hot, silent tears running down her cheeks.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6, "What Is This, An Orman Novel?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. 6 What Is This, An Orman Novel?

  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
"What Is This, An Orman Novel?"  
  
  
Another month went by, during which Zeta had returned to tell Tegan that the Lady President had ordered the original blueprints for the Type 40 TARDIS pulled. A special team made up of temporal mechanics, temporal physicists, experts in quantum theory, experts in spatial relationships, and every other discipline involved in designing, building, and operating a TARDIS had been called together to search for a design flaw in the Type 40 that might have allowed the sort of disaster that Tegan had suggested to have actually occurred. Tegan had thanked him for the information and he had gone on his way, promising to contact her immediately with any news.   
That had been three months ago.   
The Doctor had now been gone for a total of seven months, and Tegan was finally beginning to realize that he just wasn't coming back, not today, not next week, not next month, not ever. She felt herself sinking into depression and refused to succumb, instead packing every waking hour of every day with some sort of activity; work, visiting friends, spending time with Angelina.   
She attended every single fashion show in Paris that season, once even offering the seat that had been reserved for the Doctor at the Versace show to Zeta. The Time Lord watched the proceedings with a grave expression of utmost seriousness that made her laugh every time she stole a glance at him. Later, at the party after the show, Tegan noticed him renewing his acquaintance with the brunette model with whom he had danced so scandalously at Angelina's birthday party. She smiled to herself when she saw him put his arm around her and discretely lead her from the party and out into the glittering Paris night.   
Naturally, that sight brought up thoughts of her own night spent in Paris with a Time Lord so many years ago, and she felt tears stinging her eyes before she could throttle her grief into submission. Resolutely, she blinked them away and turned her attention back to the aging rock singer who was trying to engage her in conversation. The man had been her idol during her teen years, and she couldn't believe that she was having such a difficult time keeping her mind on their conversation. Some part of her brain was dimly aware that he was hitting on her, and she suddenly found that she couldn't possibly have been less interested. This realization astonished her, for she could remember when she would have done nearly anything to be with this man… but of course that had been a very long time ago, and she had been a very different person. Pleading exhaustion and jet lag, she quickly extricated herself from the conversation and went to her hotel room where she lay in a hot bath for a long time, just thinking. When the tears came this time, she didn't try to hold them back.  
Now Tegan had returned to New York, pulling her little suitcase on wheels behind her through the luxuriously appointed hallways of the Central Park West apartment building that housed Angelina's penthouse apartment. She was cranky, she was jetlagged, and she was dehydrated and cramped from having spent the better part of the previous twenty hours either on a subway, in airports, on an airplane, or in a taxi. She was ready for a drink, a bath, and her bed. She turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open, dragging her suitcase into the empty darkened apartment and pulling the door shut behind her. She was so exhausted and muddled from her long day of planes, trains, and automobiles that she actually walked right past the blue police box without even giving it a second glance. _Now _that's_ the way to travel,_ she thought to herself. No hanging around in airports drinking bad coffee, or trying to explain to a taxi driver who spoke no English that she wanted -   
She was halfway up the hallway leading to her bedroom when realization hit her. She dropped the handle of her suitcase and raced back out into the living room, flipping on the lights and blinking at the police box in astonishment.   
"Doctor!" she cried, looking around for him. He wasn't in the living room, he wasn't in the kitchen or the dining room, or… A hasty search of the rest of Angelina's apartment failed to turn up the Time Lord. She went to the police box and knocked loudly on the door. "Doctor, are you in there?" There was no response. With a frown, she went to her bedroom and looked through her jewelry box, locating her TARDIS key on its little silver chain. Angelina had returned the key to her mother after the incident with the Rani had rather soured her on wearing it as a necklace.   
Tegan took the key into the living room and quickly unlocked the TARDIS door, nearly falling down the steps that she kept forgetting now led into the console room. "Doctor!" she called, glancing around at the dim interior. "I wish he'd turn on some bloody lights in here!" she muttered. "Doctor! Where are you?" She thought she heard something… a low moan? She glanced around again, but she was quite alone. _Must be my imagination._ She recalled that the last time she had gone into his TARDIS looking for him, she had found him in the bath and decided to look there first. She was heading for the interior door when she heard the sound again; it was definitely a moan, she was sure of it. She was also sure that the console room was empty. "Rabbits! Where are you, Doctor?" She heard the sound again and began a slow, careful circuit of the console room, peering into every shadowed corner and under or around every piece of furniture. She found him on the settee, curled up in the fetal position on his side, a white sheet wrapped around him. "Doctor?" From behind the settee, she bent over him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
He screamed, a cry of pure terror. Before she could react, he was on his feet. In a blur, he had her from behind, one hand pushing her right arm up painfully behind her back, and his other arm locked around her throat in a stranglehold.  
"Doctor!" she choked out. She clawed frantically at the arm around her throat with her free hand and was rewarded with having her other arm jammed further up between her shoulder blades. "Doctor, please!" she begged. "You're hurting me!" Her vision began to shimmer from oxygen deprivation, and instinct took over. She lashed out with her feet, swinging back to kick at his legs. She lashed out with her free arm, trying to elbow his stomach, his genitals, any vulnerable spot. Hissing with anger, he tightened his grip on her throat. A dark curtain began to descend over her vision, and her struggles were weakening. _Oh my God, he's going to kill me…_ She felt his breath at the juncture of her neck and left shoulder, cold against her warm skin. "Brave heart," she whispered, as consciousness left her.   
"Tegan!" Suddenly she was on the floor, lying across his lap and gasping for air. Her right arm and shoulder burned from their recent twisting, and her throat burned from its recent choking, but when she opened her eyes and saw the Doctor staring down at her with dark blue eyes filled with remorse and concern, her discomfort seemed unimportant, even trivial.   
"Doctor," she rasped out. She reached up with her left hand to touch his cheek, trying to convince herself that was she was seeing was real. "Thank God you're back! I've been so worried!" She frowned. "You look terrible!" She tried to sit up.  
"No, lie still," he told her. "Let me do it." He had his arm under her shoulders, and now he slowly drew her upright so that she sat in his lap. They were on the floor behind the settee, she realized; the Doctor was leaning his back against it, looking unimaginably tired and drained. "I'm so sorry, Tegan," he whispered. "Oh God… so sorry. I almost killed you – "  
"It's all right, Doctor. You didn't. See? I'm still alive. I'm fine." _But what's wrong with _you_?_ she thought but did not say. She pulled away from him slightly and looked at him carefully. His fine brown curls were dirty and tangled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. She slipped his white sheet off of his shoulders and realized that he was naked; she wondered briefly what had happened to his clothes. She ran her fingers down his chest over the little cuts, over the bruises that were dark purple and greenish yellow in their various stages of healing, over a new unevenness in his ribcage that could only have been a broken rib that hadn't healed correctly. Whatever had happened to him had happened over quite a long period of time.  
"Oh, Doctor," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "You look like you've…"  
"Been tortured," he finished shortly. "Yes. It was terrible. And I don't want to talk about it." She nodded and put the sheet back around him along with her arms, pulling him close. He smelled of old sweat spiked with the bitter tang of spent adrenalin.   
"Are you…" She swallowed hard. "Are you going to regenerate?" She felt him shrug.  
"I don't know. I've been feeling as though I might." She nodded.  
"It doesn't matter," she assured him, looking into his eyes. "Nothing will change."  
"Except me," he said with a small, tired smile. For some reason, his little joke coupled with that smile made her want to cry. As she had grown so used to doing during his long months of absence, she buried her sorrow and her apprehension under purposeful action.  
"All right," she said, gritting her teeth as she forced her tortured right arm to move. "Let's get you off this floor and into bed."  
"I'm really not in any shape for it right now. I know I'm irresistible, but can't you wait at least a couple of days?"  
"What?" she asked, too tired and overwhelmed to understand that his words were a joke.  
"Oh come on, Tegan," he said, rolling his eyes. She finally got it.  
"In your dreams!" she said automatically, wincing at the pain that shot through her shoulder as she grabbed the back of the settee and used it as leverage to haul herself up. Somehow she managed to get the Doctor to his feet, and they made their way into the interior of the TARDIS, leaning on each other like two drunken sailors staggering back to their ship after shore leave. _How ignominious,_ the Doctor thought wryly.  
  
  
Item from a _New York Post_ gossip column:  
  
_**DARLING NIKKI**  
  
SUPERMODEL NIKKI BENSON has disappeared without a trace.   
  
Sources report that the brunette bombshell was last seen in Paris leaving the Versace aftershow party in the company of a mysterious dark-haired young man.   
  
The voluptuous vixen's publicist was more than happy to comment on the situation. "I know exactly who she's with and what she's doing. She is in absolutely no danger, and she certainly hasn't 'disappeared'. She'll be back."   
  
Nikki's friend and fellow supermodel Angelina concurs. "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you," she told this columnist, sounding strangely amused. "I'm sure she'll turn up eventually… and probably with a huge smile on her face!"  
  
Speaking of Angelina, the captivating clotheshorse and her Munch-able squeeze were recently spotted boarding the Carnival _Victory _for a seven-day cruise to Canada. This columnist wonders why they didn't go for the sunny Caribbean instead, but does admit that those chilly Canadian nights are perfect snuggle-up weather!_  
  
  
Tegan stayed in the TARDIS with the Doctor for the next two weeks, leaving only to phone the airline to tell them she needed some time off to attend to an ill friend. When told that it wouldn't be possible to arrange for a personal leave on such short notice, she'd snapped, "Well then I bloody well quit!" and hung up the phone.  
There wasn't anything she could really do for him besides offer comfort; his body would have to decide on its own if it was going to regenerate. He had complained so frequently of being too hot that Tegan had turned down the temperature control in his bedroom to the point where she now wore a winter coat and grumbled good-naturedly about his body being unable to figure out the difference between "regenerate" and "hibernate". But secretly, she was worried. She had never heard him say he was too hot before, not even during a recent brutally hot New York summer that had kept Angelina indoors for weeks at a time. She didn't know what it meant for a Time Lord to lose the ability to regulate his metabolism, but she figured it couldn't be good.  
Tegan was in the TARDIS kitchen putting together a breakfast tray when she heard the sound of a materializing TARDIS. She hurried into the console room and turned on the viewscreen to see that Angelina's living room now held a cute little Victorian armoire, painted white with little pink flowers at the corners. "Looks like we've got a visitor," she said, and went back to the kitchen to prepare more food. Soon, she was pushing a food-laden trolley into the Doctor's bedroom, where she saw a petite blonde woman perched on the edge of the his bed, holding his hand and talking quietly with him. She looked up when she heard Tegan enter.  
"Your flight attendants are preparing to begin food service," Tegan said in her best airhostess voice, pushing the trolley forward. "Please remain seated until the captain turns off the 'fasten seat belt' sign, at which point you may move freely about the cabin. We would like to remind you that this is a nonsmoking flight, so please extinguish all smoking materials at this time, including the aircraft if possible." The Doctor laughed.  
"I hope you don't say things like that when you're working," he said, grinning.  
"Who works?" she asked rhetorically. He gave her a look. "Oh," she said to the blonde woman. "I don't think we've met. I'm Tegan Jovanka."  
"And I'm Romana," the Time Lady said, standing and offering Tegan her hand as a human would have done. "And we have met, but you probably don't remember."  
"Oh yes," Tegan recalled. "You're Madeline!"   
"Sometimes," Romana said with a smile.  
"Or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof," the Doctor added, sitting up in bed. Tegan bent over the trolley to organize the food into trays, and Romana joined her.  
"He looks terrible," Romana whispered, leaning in close. Tegan shrugged.  
"He looked a lot worse when he first got here," she whispered back. "Did he tell you where he's been or what happened to him?" Romana shook her head. "I figured. He won't talk about it."  
"Do you think it's cold in here?" the Doctor suddenly asked. Tegan glanced up at him.  
"No, not at all," she replied jokingly, holding out her arms and peering down elaborately at her winter coat. "Why do you ask, Doctor?"   
"It _is_ a bit chilly in here," Romana added. "I can see my breath!"  
"Hmm. Perhaps we'd better raise the temperature a bit," he said. Tegan grinned.  
"That's the most wonderful thing I've heard you say in a long time, Doctor!"   
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5, "Dereliction of Duty"  
  
  
  
  



	8. 7 Dereliction of Duty

  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
"Dereliction of Duty"  
  
  
The Doctor fell asleep shortly after breakfast. After clearing away the dishes, Tegan and Romana retired to the console room for tea and conversation on the settee.  
"I almost didn't tell him," Romana said quietly, staring into her teacup. "But I did my duty as a Time Lady, as President… and it nearly killed me to do it." Tegan glanced at her and knew not to ask questions; the Time Lady needed to tell her story at her own pace and in her own way, and she needed Tegan just to listen. Slowly, Romana began talking about the ripple she had seen in the Matrix that had caused the High Council to sanction the use of the Eye of Rassilon. She told Tegan about seeing Angelina's murder in the Eye, filling her in on the events that had happened while she and Sarah Jane had gotten loaded on Sonic Screwdrivers. "I knew I had to give them enough information to stop her being murdered."  
"Thank you," Tegan said seriously.   
"I didn't do it for you," the Time Lady said in a cool, matter-of-fact tone. "I didn't even do it for the Doctor. I did it because there was no other way to save the Universe."  
"What?"   
"I saw what happened when Angelina was killed. You were devastated, of course, but the Doctor… " She sighed. "The Doctor went insane." Tegan blinked. "It broke him, Tegan. And you weren't there to pick up the pieces, and I was no good for the job… besides, he wanted _you_, needed _you_, not me. But you – "  
"I blamed him," Tegan finished, knowing herself well enough to know what Romana must have seen. "Probably threw it all in his face… the Rani, everything." Romana nodded.  
"Something like that," she agreed. "And with the Doctor out of the picture, there was no one there to stop the invasion – "  
"What invasion?"  
"I can't say their name – " Romana began.  
"What, are they like Voldemort?"  
"Who's Voldemort?" the Time Lady asked curiously.  
"He Who Must Not Be Named… never mind, it doesn't matter."  
"All right. I can't tell you their name because I literally can't say it. Neither Gallifreyan nor human vocal cords are built for making that sort of sound." Tegan's eyebrows went up.  
"Really? The Doctor once told me that no being in the Universe speaks a language that another species couldn't learn eventually; I can't remember exactly how he explained it. Something about gestalt and synchronicity. Sounded like a lot of Jungian nonsense to me, really." But Romana was nodding in agreement.  
"No, he's right. We should all be able to understand each other. Even if it took you a hundred years to learn Gallifreyan, you could still eventually learn it – if you lived long enough. But these beings are from outside of our own Universe. We have no common ground. They are not part of our gestalt."  
"Thank God for that," Tegan muttered. Romana gave her a brief smile.  
"The invaders had worked out how to invade and conquer other dimensions, other universes. But one territory still eluded them."  
"Time." Tegan guessed.  
"Right in one," Romana replied. "They'd been capturing time sensitives – Tharils and whatnot – hoping to crack the secret of time travel. The rest of us can count ourselves lucky that none of their captors had that secret or were able to explain it if they did. The Tharils could no more explain to them how they 'walk the winds' than you could explain how your brain regulates your body's metabolism. And yet they were tortured to death – all of them – in the vain hope of learning the secret."  
"But they did learn it, didn't they?" Tegan asked. "Or they would have eventually, right?" Romana nodded.  
"Yes. They would have. If the Doctor had gone insane and stopped traveling, they would have captured a young Time Lord named Atraxis, fresh out of the Arcalian Academy and on his way to a research assignment in the Outer Rim. He would have broken quickly under their torture, surrendering his assigned TARDIS and everything he knew about time travel, which as you can imagine would have been quite a bit." Tegan put a hand over her eyes.  
"Disaster."  
"Quite," Romana agreed. "So I sent the Doctor to be tortured instead."  
"You what?"  
"I almost didn't do it. Really. I almost just…" She looked down at her teacup again. "I saw so many terrible possibilities for him in the Eye. I saw him tortured to death with electric shocks, his brain and nervous system so scrambled that he couldn't regenerate. I saw him tortured, regenerate, and tortured again, repeatedly, using up the rest of his lives in a hellish nightmare. I saw him tortured until he was broken and begging for mercy, spilling all of our secrets to his captors. But in every single scenario, he somehow managed to stop them, even though he died in the end. A few times, he escaped and came back here, only to die from his injuries in the console room before you returned from Paris. Once, you even went off with some rock singer, never knowing that he was dying on the floor in Angelina's living room." Tegan gave a little cry, covering her mouth with her hand as tears ran down her cheeks. Romana put a gentle hand on Tegan's arm. "There was only one scenario in which I saw him live, Tegan. And I think it's safe to say that it appears to have played out after all."  
"Are you sure?" Tegan asked, almost begging.  
"Yes, Tegan. I'm sure. He's not going to regenerate, and he's not going to die. This is the outcome I hoped for ever since I told him that he must begin traveling again."   
"Oh thank God!"   
"This whole episode has made me rethink things," Romana continued, biting her lower lip. "I am considering resigning the Presidency."  
"Why?" Tegan asked, astounded.  
"I shouldn't have hesitated to send the Doctor to his fate. The fate of the Universe was at stake, and he was the only one who could stop them. What's one life against so many others?" Tegan looked appalled.  
"Is that how Time Lords think?"   
"How would you make that choice, Tegan?" Romana snapped. "Does the Doctor's life outweigh the lives of every other person in the known Universe, everyone who ever lived, everyone alive now, and everyone who will ever live in the future?" Tegan thought for a minute.  
"I don't… I mean, I… can't…"  
"No, you can't. You're only human, after all," Romana spat angrily. "But I should be able to make that kind of decision without even thinking about it. I am a Time Lady of Gallifrey, after all."  
"But he's your friend – "  
"If he had remained only my friend, perhaps I wouldn't have had a second thought about sending him off to face torture and certain death. But we became lovers, and that changed everything… just as he'd warned me it would."  
"You were lovers?" Tegan asked with disbelief. "When?"  
"It's not important," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The important thing is that I was almost guilty of an insane dereliction of duty, and that sort of thing can't be allowed to happen again." They were silent for a long moment.  
"I can't speak for the Time Lords," Tegan finally said. "But I know I'd be nervous of a President who could send someone off to be tortured and killed without batting an eye, especially if that someone were an old friend and… and more."  
"If the Time Lords knew what I nearly did, they'd be nervous of me as well," Romana said ruefully, shaking her head.   
"In my book, anything that makes that lot nervous is a good thing!" Tegan said with a shrug. Romana laughed.  
"Yes, some of them could definitely use a good shaking up." She looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I'll give it to them."  
"So you're going to resign after all?" Tegan asked, sounding disappointed.  
"Oh no," the Time Lady replied with an impish smile. "I can't resign after resolving to shake things up, can I?"  
"What are you going to do to them?"   
"Well, for one thing, I understand that the Prydonian Academy could use a Dean with better manners… I wonder if the Doctor would be interested in the position." Tegan laughed.  
"I doubt it!"  
"Mmm, I doubt it too," Romana said wistfully. "Oh well," she said briskly, rising to her feet. "It was only a thought."  
"Hang on," Tegan said, looking thoughtful. "Before you rush back to Gallifrey… I think I might have an idea for your new Dean." Romana made an eyebrow at her.  
"Oh?" she asked, sounding interested.   
"Yeah," Tegan said with a grin. "And you talk about shaking things up… wait 'til they get a load of _my_ candidate!"  
  
  
Tegan was sitting in a chair by the Doctor's bed when he woke.  
"Good morning," she said cheerfully, smiling and setting aside the book she'd been reading. "Or rather, good afternoon!"  
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, sitting up.  
"A few hours. You look much better, by the way. How do you feel?"  
"Better. That chair can't be comfortable," he said seriously. He pulled aside the covers and patted the space beside him. "There's plenty of room."  
"You're feeling a _lot_ better, aren't you?" she exclaimed with relief. He grinned.  
"I certainly am!" He patted the bed again. "Care for a demonstration?" Tegan laughed.  
"I haven't had a shower in six days, Doctor. Trust me, you don't want me in your bed!"   
"I'm sure I'm far dirtier than you," he told her ruefully. "The holding cell they tossed me in between torture sessions wasn't exactly the Waldorf Astoria. No sink, no shower… really, I should have lodged a complaint with the management!" She didn't know what to say to that. Instead of searching for the words to frame a suitable reply, she pushed off her shoes and slid into the bed next to him. She reached out for him, but he backed away.  
"Not out of pity," he said quietly.  
"Pity? Never!" she said scornfully. Suddenly, her dark eyes filled with tears. "I missed you," she said quietly. "I was so worried about you. I almost can't believe you're back; I feel like I need to convince myself that you're real." She wiped her eyes. "Does that make sense?" He nodded.  
"But let me take a shower first… and if you'd like to join me, I'll show you just how real I am!" he invited.  
"Need help scrubbing those hard-to-reach places, do you?" she asked innocently.  
"I can think of one or two spots that might benefit from special attention," he said with a completely straight face.  
"Hmm, I bet you can!" she agreed. He got out of bed and started for the bathroom. She remained where she was, just watching him.  
"What are you waiting for, Christmas?" he asked teasingly.   
"Yeah, and I'm thinking about what I want for my present," she said saucily. His eyebrows went up.  
"Have you been a very good little girl?" he asked in a low voice. She rose to her feet and stretched languidly.  
"No."  
"Oh dear… well, I think Santa's got a piece of candy for you anyway!" She broke out laughing and followed him to the bathroom.  
Quite some time later, he showed her the room with the hot tub.   
Though the Doctor was now completely healed, he and Tegan didn't leave his TARDIS for another eight days.  
  
  
Angelina and Munch had just finished a romantic dinner in the Atlantic Dining Room on board the _Victory_.   
"I got you something," Munch told her as the waiter set their desserts in front of them.   
"Oh Munch, you shouldn't have," she said, watching as he fumbled in his pocket for whatever it was.   
"I wanted to surprise you."  
"This cruise was quite a surprise itself!" she told him sincerely. He shrugged.  
"I wanted everything to be perfect," he said.  
"For what?"  
"For this," he said, snapping open the little box to show her the diamond ring nestled in black velvet.  
  
  
Later, in their stateroom.  
"What are you doing?" Munch asked, watching her shove at one of the twin beds.  
"I'm trying to put them together," she said, as though the answer were obvious. Munch frowned.  
"You said you wanted a ring on your finger," he reminded her. She gave him an exasperated look and held up her left hand.  
"Look. Ring. Finger. Ring on finger." His eyebrows went up. "Now, please help me shift this, would you?"  
Munch didn't have to be asked twice.  
  
  
Item from a _New York Post_ gossip column:  
  
_**OH NIKKI, WHAT A PITY!**  
  
SUPERMODEL NIKKI BENSON has announced her semi-retirement.  
  
"I'm not quitting completely," the curvaceous cutie told this columnist. "I'm just cutting back a lot. I'm moving and I'll be living pretty far away from things. Getting back to do modeling jobs will be kind of inconvenient, so I'm not going to be working as much."  
  
When asked what fabulous locale she would soon be calling home, the giggling glamour puss replied, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you!" Dubuque, perhaps? "No. Even weirder than that!"   
  
If there's something weirder than a supermodel moving to Iowa, this columnist would love to hear it! _   
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 8, "And Now, An Important Announcement..."  
  
  



	9. 8 And Now, An Important Announcement

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"And Now, An Important Announcement…"  
  
  
Tegan entered the console room holding two steaming cups of tea and saw the Doctor staring with dread at the console, his eyes riveted to a small red light that blinked and blipped.  
"What's that?" she asked, handing him his tea.  
"A message from Gallifrey."  
"No wonder you don't look happy about it!" She sipped her tea. "Don't answer it," she advised. He sighed.   
"I'm a Time Lord, Tegan. I _have_ to answer it." He pressed the blinking red light, which immediately went dim and fell silent. The viewscreen flickered into life, displaying a short line of Gallifreyan text that was stylized, like a logo. "Ah," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "It's a Public Register Video broadcast. Something important's happened."  
"Good or bad?" He shrugged.  
"We'll soon see," he said as the lettering disappeared. The image of a dark-haired Time Lord dressed in orange and scarlet robes appeared on the viewscreen. "That's Andred!" the Doctor exclaimed in surprise. "What's he doing working for Public Register Video?" he asked rhetorically.  
"Shh!" Tegan scolded. "Let's here what he has to say!"  
" – an important announcement." Andred was saying into the camera. The shot panned to reveal a podium with a large Prydonian seal displayed on the wall behind it.  
"Looks a bit like the set-up when an American president has news conferences," Tegan murmured. The Doctor nodded.  
"Some things are the same the universe over," he told her. On the viewscreen, Romana appeared, resplendent in her white robes of office. Tegan began to hum "Hail to the Chief" under her breath, and the Doctor gave her an amused look before turning back to the viewscreen, where Romana was moving to stand behind the podium. On her right was a deceptively young-looking Time Lord decked out in full Prydonian regalia.   
"Look, it's Zeta!" Tegan exclaimed, grinning hugely. "I have a feeling I know what this announcement's going to be!"  
"You do?" the Doctor asked, astounded. "How could you possibly – "  
"Shh!"  
" – has stepped down as Dean of the Prydonian Academy due to ill health as he approaches the end of his tenth regeneration," Romana was saying.  
"Ill manners, more like!" Tegan said.   
"What do you know about all this?" the Doctor asked suspiciously.  
"Shh!" Tegan admonished. "Romana's talking!"  
" – pleased to announce the appointment of Lord Zeta of the House of Starkweather to fill this vacant position."  
"I don't believe it!" the Doctor exclaimed, watching as Zeta moved forward to say a few words.  
"I do!" Tegan said smugly.  
" – and I shall do my very best to uphold the high standards of the Prydonian Academy," Zeta was saying on the screen. The Doctor snorted.  
"You've no idea what he was like at school! It's like getting the fox to guard the chicken house!"   
"Shh!"  
" – hope to live up to the reputation of my worthy predecessor – "  
"Or down to it," Tegan said acidly. Now it was the Doctor's turn.  
"Shh!"  
" – and honor the rich tradition of – "   
"Really, it's preposterous!" the Doctor complained.  
"Jealous because you weren't offered the job?" Tegan asked, her casual tone belying her true interest in his answer; she suddenly wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.  
"Good grief no!" he exclaimed, much to her relief. "I just can't imagine someone who pulled the sort of stunts he pulled while at school actually being in charge of the place!" Meanwhile, Zeta and Romana had left the scene, and the picture changed to show Andred again.  
"And that was the scene only moments ago as Lady President Romanadvoratrelundar officially announced her appointment of Lord Zeta – "  
"Ridiculous!" the Doctor scoffed. "Really, Tegan, if you only knew the sort of things he used to get up to – "  
"Shh!"  
" – and still no one has actually _seen_ the woman," Andred was saying. "Curiosity runs high among the Time Lords. Will Lord Zeta's human paramour make an appearance at his investiture? Her publicist had this to say." The picture abruptly went to a taped interview with a middle-aged human woman with frosted blond hair and a thick New York accent.  
"Why should they care about seeing her?" the woman asked with a shrug. "She's not good enough for them anyway, right? So what's all the fuss about? Who cares what she looks like? She's just a human, and certainly not worth all this speculation." The Doctor frowned.  
"What's this woman playing at?"  
"Dunno," Tegan said with a shrug. "But I'm sure she knows what she's doing. Angelina's publicist sure does."  
"Hmm."  
"Anyway, Lord Zeta's big ceremony is what everyone should be thinking about," the publicist was saying. "I would hate to see it eclipsed by all this talk about the silly little human girl he dragged back here. Why should they care? He'll probably get tired of her eventually anyway."  
"This is utterly bizarre," the Doctor said. Tegan shrugged.  
"I'm sure she knows what she's doing," she repeated uncertainly.  
"And that's all from the Capitol. In other news – " The Doctor switched off the viewscreen.   
"I'd love to be a fly on the wall for Zeta's big day!" Tegan said with feeling. As if in reply, the little red light on the console resumed its blinking and blipping. Presently, the console spat out six little cards printed on scarlet paper. The Doctor snatched them up and read hurriedly.  
"Well, it looks like you're going to get your wish!" he said, holding up the invitation and grinning.  
"Hello, the blue box!" Angelina's voice called from outside. "Cooeee! Is anyone in there?" The Doctor hit the door switch, and the jubilant supermodel hopped down the steps into the console room, with Munch following behind at a more sedate pace, carrying a large shopping bag.  
"Cheesencrackers," the detective muttered, putting down the bag and glancing around at the impossibly enormous room with its vaulted ceiling.   
"Yeah, it's big, right?" Angelina asked, smiling. She turned her attention to the Doctor. "Well hey, you're back! Where've you been, anyway?"  
"Oh, here and there," he told her vaguely as she hugged him.  
"How was the cruise?" Tegan asked.  
"Really great!" Munch said with feeling. Angelina glanced at him and giggled.   
"Mmm, it was absolutely wonderful!" she agreed, and then blushed and looked at the floor. The Doctor frowned, and Munch suddenly thought of the dent in Zeta's control console.   
"We have some news for you," he said hurriedly.  
"Oh yes, how silly of me!" Angelina said, grinning. "Look!" She held up her left hand with its diamond ring.  
"How wonderful!" Tegan said happily, hugging her daughter.  
"Hmm," the Doctor said, still frowning at Munch. The detective looked like he wished the floor would open under him and swallow him up. Tegan gave the Doctor a look.  
"Come on, Doctor," she admonished in a tone similar to one that she might have used with a small recalcitrant child. "Haven't you got anything to say?" He took a breath.  
"Ohhh, I can think of quite a few things I'd like to say," he said in an overly casual tone.   
"Eeep!" Munch squeaked out involuntarily.  
"Come on, be nice," Angelina chided the Doctor, taking his arm and steering him over to Munch, who took three hasty steps back before he could stop himself. "Aren't you happy for us?" Her big blue eyes were wide and pleading, but also sparkling with happiness. He sighed.  
"If you're happy, I'm happy," he finally said. He looked at Munch. "A word, if you don't mind?" he said, grasping Munch's arm in a viselike grip and dragging him away from Tegan and Angelina. The Doctor looked up at the much taller man, his eyes suddenly cold and alien. "Now you listen to me, my boy," he said in a low, dangerous voice; somehow, being called "my boy" by this man who looked to be twentysomething years his junior didn't seem at all strange to Munch. "Promise me one thing," the Doctor continued. "Promise that you'll never hurt her, and you'll do your best to make her happy."  
"Of course, sir," he said immediately. "I swear to you that I'll do everything in my power to make her happy, and I promise I'll never hurt her intentionally." The Doctor nodded gravely.   
"All right."  
"But that's _two_ things," Munch could not resist pointing out. The Doctor's eyebrows went up. "Sir." the detective added hastily. The Time Lord's lips twitched.  
"Cheeky bastard," the Doctor said quietly.  
"Yes, sir," Munch agreed readily. That was it. The Doctor could no longer contain his laughter. Together, they walked back over to Angelina and Tegan, who held a dark blue dress up against her body.  
"What do you think?" she asked the Doctor, who shrugged. She made a disgusted sound. "I don't know why I bother asking," she muttered. "Look at how he dresses _himself_!"   
"We've brought you something as well," Angelina told him, reaching into the shopping bag and handing him an object wrapped in tissue paper. "It's for your blue box," she explained as he unwrapped it. "I figured you could attach the sucker to one of the windows when you park it in my living room so I'll know when you're actually in there." It was a wooden handpainted sign. At the top was a piece of twine from which to hang it, and a sucker cup with a little hook. The sign was painted blue with white lettering that read _The Doctor Is In_ on one side and _The Doctor Is Out_ on the other.   
"Perfect!" he said, laughing. "Oh, before I forget… " He went over to the control console and sorted through the stack of scarlet cards until he found the two he wanted. "Here," he said, handing one to Munch and one to Angelina. Munch squinted at the alien text, frowning. Angelina was much more straightforward.  
"What's all this gobbledygook?" she asked.  
"It's Gallifreyan," he told her patiently.  
"Well, I haven't brought my pocket dictionary… have you, Munch?" Munch made a show of patting his pockets, coming up with nothing, and shaking his head. "That settles it. I'm afraid you'll have to translate," she told the Doctor.  
"You're both invited to Zeta's investiture as Dean of the Prydonian Academy." Her eyebrows went up.  
"So all your sneaky conniving paid off, eh?"   
"It may surprise you to learn that I'm not the only sneaky conniver around here," he told her, shooting a look in Tegan's direction.  
"Who, me?" she asked innocently.  
"How are we supposed to dress for this?" Angelina asked. The Doctor shrugged.  
"Um, wear something nice, I suppose. And there's to be a party afterwards."  
"And what'll we wear to that?" Tegan asked. The Doctor picked up one of the invitations from the control console and reread it.  
"It says _Casual Dress_, which I assume means – "  
"Casual dress," Angelina finished for him. He nodded.  
"The High Council will have heart failure when they see me and Munch there… not to mention Angelina," Tegan told the Doctor, who nodded.  
"I suspect that's partly the idea," he said with a smile. He held up two more invitations. "He's invited Briscoe and Green as well."  
"Hell's Teeth! He's really yanking their chains, isn't he?"  
"Well, of course," the Doctor said with a shrug. "It's practically what he lives for!"  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 9, "The Biggest Mistake"  
  
  
  



	10. 9 The Biggest Mistake

  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
Chapter 9  
  
"The Biggest Mistake"  
  
  
When the police box materialized in the Capitol several weeks later, there was a small crowd of people waiting for it. Tegan and Angelina emerged first, both dressed in sedate gray Armani suits. Tegan's was done in heavyweight wool, to insulate against the Gallifreyan cold. After them came the three detectives in their black suits and black topcoats, with Green carrying something in a large plastic bag. They were followed by the Doctor in his usual tan pants and green velvet coat. It was upon him that the waiting crowd descended.  
"Oh would you just _look_ at him?" Tommy fretted. "Zeta was absolutely right!" Before the Doctor realized what was happening, Isaac had his frock coat off and his waistcoat unbuttoned.   
"What do you think – " the Doctor began.  
"Get rid of that too," Calvin said, gesturing at his gray cravat, and Tommy obligingly began to work on it.  
"Now you just wait a min – "  
"That hair!" Tommy called out to the fourth man. "Just look at it! You've got to do something!"  
"Why bother?" John asked rhetorically.   
"Oh yeah, I forgot," Tommy replied, yanking the cravat free from the white silk collar.  
""I really must protest this – " Calvin spun the Doctor around, grabbed one of his hands and stuffed it into a scarlet sleeve, while Isaac soon had his other arm in the other one. Tommy began fastening the closures on the shimmering robes.  
"I – " Isaac silenced him by plopping a large orange winged headdress onto his shoulders, wrenching it into place. "I don't _want_ to wear – " John completed the ensemble by jamming an orange helmet onto his head. The four men stepped back to survey their work.  
"Marvelous," Isaac sighed with satisfaction.  
"Divine," Tommy gushed.  
"He looks almost presentable," Calvin put in.  
"Too bad about the helmet," John said wistfully. "I could have done _so much_ with that hair!" The members of the Doctor's party were howling with laughter at the impromptu makeover he'd just received, and at the indignant expression on his face.  
"Now you know how I feel!" Angelina told him ruefully. "That's exactly how I get treated backstage at fashion shows!" The Time Lord looked decidedly not amused.  
"Oh, Doctor," Tegan said, trying to control her laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you in those clothes, I'm just laughing at how those guys – "  
"But Mum," Angelina protested. "He looks ridiculous!"  
"Hey, come on, kid," Briscoe suddenly said. "Your mom's right. We're not laughing at _him_. He's a Time Lord, and that's how they dress. Don't make fun of his heritage." Angelina looked abashed.  
"You're right, Detective," she said quietly. She walked over to the Doctor and took his hand. "I'm sorry."  
"It's all right," he told her with a sigh. "I _do_ look ridiculous!"   
"No you don't," Tegan said immediately. "I think you look really amazing!" She took his arm, and his eyebrows went up. "Didn't Zeta invite us to yank everyone's chain?" He grinned and pulled his arm out of hers, wrapping it around her waist instead.   
"Hey Angie!" A new voice said. It was young, female, American-accented. They turned to see a woman approaching up the corridor. She was wearing a floor-length faux mink coat and a pair of Chanel sunglasses. Her long brunette hair was swept up and hidden inside a large black picture hat that was pulled down to obscure her features.  
"Nikki!" Angelina said, rushing forward to hug her friend. "I can't believe all this!" she said, gesturing at the designers and the hairdresser, who were all hurriedly departing in the company of a middle-aged blonde woman they hadn't noticed before; Tegan and the Doctor recognized her as Nikki's publicist from the Public Register Video broadcast. "You've really been hard at work!"  
"Yeah. Zeta said I could invite whoever I wanted to the party afterwards," Nikki told her. "Christie's here… and Linda, Cindy, Kate, Naomi, Heidi, and Claudia… oh, and Garren… not to mention Marc, Ralph, Giorgio, Donna, Karl, Carolina, Donnatella – "  
"The Time Lords are going to have a stroke!" Tegan said to the Doctor _sotto voce_.  
"Yes. I think that's the idea," he replied in the same low tone.  
"Speaking of yanking chains," Briscoe said, gesturing at Green.  
"Ohmigod," Angelina said, breaking into giggles. "Where on Earth did you get _that_?"   
"He didn't get it on Earth, Honey!" Briscoe told her with a grin. Green had opened his bag and pulled out his souvenir from a previous visit to Gallifrey: A winged Prydonian headdress.  
"Do you think I should I wear this?" Green asked the Doctor with a grin.   
"Yes, absolutely!" the Time Lord told him without hesitation. "You'll make Zeta proud!"  
"So, who are all these people?" Nikki asked her friend curiously. "I know Munch, but – "  
"Well, these are some of his co-workers," Angelina said, introducing Briscoe and Green. "And this is my Mum, Tegan Jovanka." She glanced at the Doctor in his Prydonian get-up and sighed. "This is – "  
"Lord Theta, right?" Nikki asked.  
"How did you know?" the Doctor asked, surprised.  
"Zeta told me," Nikki answered with a shrug. She threw an arm around Angelina's shoulders. "Yep, it's true… I know all about your sordid past, Angie." Too upset by this announcement to hear the teasing tone in her friend's voice, Angelina looked chagrinned.  
"My sordid past – " she began.  
"You're half-alien with a whacked out dad from Planet Ten," Nikki said with a shrug.   
"Gallifrey," the Doctor corrected with enormous dignity.  
"Same difference," Nikki told him, turning back to Angelina. "So what? I've run off to live with a _full_ alien from the same planet who's not supposed to be interested in girls… or guys, either… which he's not, thank God. He's not supposed to be interested in _anyone_, period. And I hear he was woven on a loom like a rug." Angelina blinked. "Now how weird is that, Angie?"  
"Pretty weird," she conceded.  
"So who's weirder, you or me?"  
"We're probably tied," Angelina admitted with a sigh.  
"I'm trying to decide if I should be insulted by this conversation or not," the Doctor said, and both girls laughed.  
"Even though you were referred to as 'whacked out', I think you still come out ahead of the guy who's not supposed to like sex and was knitted like a rug," Munch told him helpfully.  
"All right," the Doctor said with a nod. Nikki grinned at him.  
"So you're a friend of Zeta's?" she asked. He nodded.  
"He was a few years ahead of me at the Academy." She frowned.   
"I've been totally glued to PRV since I got here, trying to memorize who everyone is, but I don't remember ever seeing you… or even hearing your name mentioned."  
"I've been away," he said dryly, gesturing at the police box.  
"Oh," Nikki said, understanding. "Your TARDIS, huh? What's it supposed to be?"  
"Its chameleon circuit has a slight malfunction."  
"It's broken," Tegan added helpfully.  
"Whoops! Well, take it back to the dealer and make them fix it," Nikki advised sagely. "That's what I do whenever I have a problem with my Porsche."  
"I shall take it into consideration," the Doctor said gravely. She laughed.   
"You guys are all alike," she told him, taking the arm that wasn't wrapped around Tegan's waist. Tegan didn't look very happy as the Doctor allowed Nikki to lead them in the direction of the Panopticon. "I met Zeta at Angie's birthday party. We danced a few dances, talked a little bit, and then he took me back to his dumpster. Ha. His _dumpster_. Can you _imagine_? So, he opened it up and we went in and he immediately started going on and on and on about dimensional transcendentalism and temporal physics, blah blah blah… well, do you know what I said?" The Doctor shook his head. "I said, 'Hey, you talk too much!'" They all burst out laughing. "It's true. He does." She grinned wickedly. "I've been showing him more interesting things to do with his mouth!"  
"TMI!" Munch exclaimed.  
"Nikki!" Angelina said simultaneously, shocked. Nikki rolled her eyes.  
"Look at me, I'm sweet Angie, lousy with virginity!" she sang mockingly to the tune of "Sandra Dee" from _Grease_.   
"Oh shut up!" Angelina told her good-naturedly.  
"Won't go to bed 'til I'm legally wed!" Nikki continued, grinning. "I can't! I'm sweet Angie!" She was so absorbed in teasing her friend that she didn't notice the look that passed between Angelina and Munch.  
"What's TMI?" Briscoe suddenly asked Munch.  
"Too Much Information," he replied. He glanced at Green, who had donned his Prydonian headdress. "You look ridiculous."  
"I thought we just went over this," Green protested.  
"He's a Time Lord," Briscoe said, gesturing at the Doctor. "You're a detective. And Munch is right, you look ridiculous!"  
"Tell them _'Kush meer in toches!'_ Detective Green," the Doctor advised. Briscoe laughed,  
"You speak Yiddish?" Munch asked, astonished.   
"Occasionally," was the cryptic reply.   
_ "Oy vey ismier!"_ Munch said with dismay, making Briscoe laugh again. Tegan suddenly thought of the letter addressed to _Mrs. Rachel Weisman_ that still sat unopened in her nightstand drawer, and was dying to ask about it but knew this would hardly be the appropriate time to bring up the topic.  
"How come we're not seeing anyone else in this corridor?" asked instead. "Surely we're not the only ones on their way to the ceremony!"  
"They've cleared a lot of the corridors for security reasons," Nikki told her. "Ever since the Rani escaped – "  
"What?" the Doctor asked. "When? How?"  
"Well, she – " Nikki began. He held up a hand.  
"Never mind. I don't want to know!"  
"That _yente_ should have a miserable life!" Briscoe said with feeling.  
"She'll have one less miserable life," Nikki said. "The High Council took away one of her regenerations, and sentenced her to spend the rest of her lives in the detention center."  
"Idiots," the Doctor muttered under his breath. "Will they never learn?"  
"Doubt it," Tegan replied. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing at a viewscreen mounted on the wall ahead. "It's your friend!"  
"Oh, you know Andred?" Nikki asked. The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, he used to be a security guard or something."  
"I know. What happened?" She shrugged.  
"He hooked up with an alien savage and got canned. Now he's on PRV." The group stopped to watch the broadcast on the monitor.  
"The Time Lords continue arriving here at the Panopticon," Andred was saying on the screen. "Already the Cardinals and Deans from most of the major colleges are here, waiting – "  
"This is more boring than C-SPAN," Briscoe observed. Nikki shrugged, taking the Doctor's arm again as they resumed their walk to the Panopticon.  
"PRV is pretty down market, actually," she told them. "It's barely a step above tabloid television… but in a really weird way. Think _A Current Affair_ meets _The McNeil-Lehrer News Hour_, with some _Entertainment Tonight_, some _Hard Copy_, some CNN, some C-SPAN, and some _Charlie Rose_ thrown in for good measure."  
"Sounds schizophrenic," Munch said.  
"Oh, it is," Nikki said, nodding. "It's wonderfully trashy, but in a very highbrow way."  
"Yes, the Time Lords love to pretend they're quite serious and proper, but in reality they're just dying to hear all the latest salacious gossip," the Doctor said scornfully.  
"Yep," Nikki agreed. "And a great way to get hired by the PRV is to distinguish yourself in a particularly embarrassing or appalling way… like your friend Andred did."  
"Zeta may be next to join their payroll," the Doctor said, giving her a significant look.  
"Joanie's really good," Nikki said with a grin. "My publicist. She insisted that Zeta keep me completely under wraps… why, this is the first time I've been out of his quarters since I got here three months ago. She let them have the tiniest little glimpse of me then, and that was it."  
"No wonder you've been watching so much telly!" Angelina said.  
"No kidding," Nikki agreed. "Meantime, Joanie's been playing the PRV like Pearlman plays a Stradivarius. She's got them worked up to the point where they're all dying to see me."  
"Reverse psychology," Green murmured.   
"Yes," the Doctor agreed. "Absolutely brilliant!"  
"Exactly. Instead of trying to stuff me down the Time Lords' throats – which was Zeta's first impulse – Joanie's been making me play Ms. Elusive Recluse. I'm harder to talk to than Greta Garbo ever was! Joanie's got them so whipped up in a frenzy of curiosity that they'd practically cut off their right arms to get a glimpse of me." They were approaching the main entrance to the Panopticon, where Andred was interviewing a startlingly pretty young Time Lady in long green robes. Behind Andred and his news crew was the main doorway, which was flanked by six Chancellery Guards on either side, with the Castellan himself blocking the actual door.  
"Look!" one of Andred's cameramen suddenly called out, pointing at Nikki. "Is that her? It's her!" Andred hastily wrapped up his interview with the green-robed Time Lady and abandoned her unceremoniously, motioning to his crew to follow him as he hurried forward to meet the Doctor and his party.   
"Make Zeta proud," Nikki whispered to the Time Lord with a wicked grin, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing it and stepping away. He nodded.  
"Miss Benson!" Andred called, breathless from his sprint up the corridor. "Do you have anything to say to everyone watching today on Public Register Video?" Nikki gave Andred her dazzling supermodel smile and walked right past him, showing her red invitation to the Castellan, who assigned one of his guards to escort her inside. Andred looked dismayed, but he gamely made the best of it. "And that was her, the mysterious Nikki Benson, right here on our broadcast!" he told his viewers. "Doctor!" he said, suddenly noticing his old friend's presence.   
"Hello, Andred. How are you?" the Doctor asked warmly, drawing Tegan forward with him. Andred looked into the camera.  
"Many of our viewers may remember Lord Theta of the House of – "  
"Oh no, nobody remembers _me_, Andred," the Doctor cut in hastily. "How's Leela?"  
"Fine," Andred answered, looking discomfited. "But I'm the one who's supposed to do the interviewing, Doctor!"  
"All right," he agreed.   
"Would you care to introduce your friends to our viewers at home?" Andred asked, thinking that even if he had missed out on an exclusive with Nikki Benson, he could score some points by capturing the Doctor's strange little party's arrival for his viewers. However, before the Doctor could open his mouth, the Castellan hurried forward with a disapproving scowl on his lips.  
"Lord Theta, who is this… _individual_?" he asked scornfully, pointing at Green in his Prydonian headdress.  
"Why, that's Detective Green!" the Doctor said, as though it were obvious.   
"Another of your human pets?" the Castellan said with a sneer, not even bothering to hide his contempt. The Doctor's eyebrows went up.  
"He's one of the three who helped capture the Rani… whom I hear has escaped. Oh well, bad luck for you, Castellan. I guess I should have let the New York justice system have another go at her instead of making the detectives turn her over to you and your lot." The Castellan grunted noncommittally, and looked at Tegan with enormous disdain.  
"This must be your human paramour, and – " He glanced over her head to look at Angelina, who was holding Munch's arm. " – I see you've brought her bastard offspring along as well." The supermodel coolly returned his gaze with an expression of amused interest. "Lord Zeta seems determined to make the worst possible impression with his choice of guests," the Castellan sniffed. The Doctor gave him a humorless smile.  
"And _you _seem to be determined to make the worst possible impression before all of Gallifrey!" he retorted coldly. The Castellan blinked.  
"Smile!" Briscoe told him brightly, pointing at Andred and his camera crew. "You're on Candid PRV Camera!" They had the satisfaction of watching the Castellan's haughty expression dissolve into horrified shock as he realized that he'd just made an ass out of himself _and_ insulted the Lady President's nearest and dearest on a live video broadcast being watched by nearly the entire planet, effectively committing career suicide in front of all of Gallifrey.  
"Better luck next time," Green told the wilted Castellan, patting his arm in a falsely friendly manner.  
"Don't worry, Castellan," Angelina told him. "I'm sure you can get a job as a presenter on the PRV."  
"_Lifestyles of the Rude and Stupid_," Munch suggested dryly. Without another word, the Castellan waved them all inside. He was so upset that he forgot to ask for their invitations, and forcing Green to remove the Prydonian headdress that he was not entitled to wear completely slipped his mind.  
  
  
Markas had never been more nervous in his young life.  
He and several hundred other young hopefuls had been handpicked to act as ushers for the investiture of the new Dean of their Academy, the very same Academy from which they all one day hoped to graduate. For the hundredth time that morning, he wiped his sweaty palms on the scarlet and orange tunic that marked his position as a student and surveyed the growing crowd on the Panopticon floor with apprehension.  
So far, he had managed not to make any terrible mistakes, or to insult anyone. His friend Lyna, a gorgeous young Time Lady hopeful, had recently fled from the floor in tears when an old Arcalian had nastily reproved her for accidentally escorting her to the area reserved for the Prydonian Cardinals. Arman, another of his fellow students, broke his reverie by grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face the party that was just entering the Panopticon.  
"Quit your daydreaming!" Arman hissed in his ear. "Look who's coming."  
"Great Rassilon, is that Lord Theta of the House of Lungbarrow?" Markas asked, unable to believe he was seeing the notorious Time Lord in the flesh.  
"Yes! Now get to it!" Arman released his arm with a little shove that sent him staggering in the direction of the approaching party.  
"Wait," he called to his friend. With a glare, Arman turned back.  
"What?"  
"The black one. He wears human clothing and a Prydonian headdress." Arman frowned thoughtfully.  
"I don't recognize him," he finally said. "But he accompanies Lord Theta, who is known to have many eccentric friends."  
"So I should put him among the Prydonian elite with Lord Theta?" Markas asked. Arman nodded.  
"Just to be safe. He might be someone really important."  
"Wouldn't we recognize him?" Markas wondered. Arman shrugged.  
"Maybe he regenerated."  
"All right," Markas agreed, little knowing that he was about to make his first mistake of the day, the one that would turn out to be the biggest and yet most fortuitous mistake made by any of the hapless students who had been honored with usher duty at their Academy's momentous event.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 10, "Gun!"  
  
  



	11. 10 Gun!

  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 10  
  
"Gun!"  
  
  
The very young-looking usher deftly separated the Doctor and Green from the rest of the group, leading them to stand at the very front of the section reserved for the Prydonians, giving them an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Green noticed everyone staring at him, and felt distinctly uncomfortable.  
"Detective Green," Chancellor Flavia said, bearing down on him with an amused expression. "How… interesting to see you here among us today."  
"Yeah, likewise," he told her, sounding slightly baffled to find himself included in what was obviously very rarified company, while the others in the Doctor's party – including his "paramour" and his daughter – had been banished to the Panopticon's equivalent of social Siberia. "That guy – " he pointed at Markas " – told me to stand here in this section, so I'm standing here in this section." Her eyebrows went up.  
"Did he? Well, in that case you must come and stand up here with us," she said, taking his arm and moving him even farther forward to stand between herself and the Doctor. Nikki stood on the Chancellor's other side, steadfastly resisting the attempts of several Time Lords to engage her in conversation. Green nudged the Doctor to get his attention.  
"When do you think they'll start?" he asked.   
"I've no idea," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "I wonder what time it is." Green automatically looked at his watch and gave the Doctor the time… New York local time, that is. "You make a better Time Lord than I do, Detective Green," the Doctor told him with a laugh.   
Green began to reply but was stopped when something began to happen on the dais in front of them. Several Time Lords and Ladies in Prydonian robes filed into the room, followed by Zeta and Romana. An immediate hush fell over the huge floor of the Panopticon, and the ceremony began.  
  
  
Green thought he would die of boredom. He had listened to boring speech after boring speech. He had listened to ceremonial gongs being rung. He had watched various important Time Lord relics get shuffled about. And like everyone else present, he had watched it all in silence; the only sounds in the room came from the people on the dais in the front. He was deeply involved in his favorite daydream, the one where he hits it big in Atlantic City. He had reached the part where he was signing the papers to purchase his new Jaguar when the shout broke his reverie.  
"Gun!" Munch's voice shouted into the relative quiet of the Panopticon hall. "Gun! Gun, left side of dais!" Green scanned the dais, absently pulling off his headdress and letting it fall to the floor. He spotted the shooter, an elderly Time Lord whose hands shook as he pointed his staser at the Lady President's head. Green acted without thinking.  
"Police! Freeze!" he shouted, pushing past Flavia and the Doctor, drawing his gun as he ran. "Drop your weapon!"  
"Police! Let us through!" Briscoe and Munch's voices could be heard over the sudden surprised murmur of the crowd. Green had reached the dais, where the elderly assailant showed no sign of dropping his staser. Green fired two quick shots at him, not really surprised when they missed and embedded themselves in the wall behind the staser-toting Time Lord. _A souvenir from Earth for you complacent bastards!_ Green thought wildly. The elderly Time Lord's hand suddenly steadied, and Green knew he'd drawn a bead on his target. In desperation, he launched himself at Romana, snagging Zeta's arm as well and dragging both Gallifreyans to the floor. Nikki screamed. The staser beam meant for the Lady President hit the detective instead, and Green knew no more.  
"Son of a bitch!" Briscoe yelled. The shooter turned, aiming at the Chancellor. Briscoe shoved his way through the crowd, reaching Flavia in time to knock her unceremoniously to the floor, falling on top of her in a heap of jumbled arms, legs, and scarlet robes. The shooter swung the staser around to point at the Doctor. Munch fired his gun, and the would-be assassin's shooting hand exploded in a spray of crimson. He screamed, falling to his knees. Almost immediately, Munch was there, kicking the weapon out of his reach and dragging him to his feet, twisting his good hand behind his back.  
"What the hell kind of show are you people running here?" Munch yelled at one of the stunned Chancellery guards. The Doctor hurried forward, pulling off his headdress and hiking up his long robes as he ran, with Briscoe following close behind.   
"Ah, Ed," Briscoe said, reaching his partner's side just after the Doctor and watching as the Time Lord rolled the younger man's motionless body over to lie on its back. Green's deep brown eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. _"Nisht do gedachet,"_ Briscoe said sadly. Romana and Zeta had climbed to their knees, somewhat hampered by the long robes they wore. Nikki ran towards the dais, her big black hat falling off her head to release her dark wavy hair. She took off her sunglasses and shoved them into her coat pocket.  
"Are you OK?" she asked Zeta, physically hauling him to his feet. The new Dean of the Prydonian Academy nodded, and with a sigh of resignation allowed himself to be embraced by his very relieved "human paramour" in front of thousands of witnesses. The Chancellery Guards had surged forward and were taking the would-be assassin into custody, cringing all the while under the full force of an acerbic Munch Tongue Lashing. Briscoe was still staring down at his motionless partner in disbelief.  
"He's going to be fine, Detective Briscoe," the Doctor said, patting the older detective's arm. "He's just stunned." On cue, Green groaned and blinked, bringing a hand to his forehead.  
"Hey Doctor," he moaned. "Did you get the license number of the truck?"  
"What truck?" the Time Lord asked, puzzled.  
"The one that hit me!"  
"I think Munch got his number," Briscoe told his partner, watching as the elderly Time Lord was led away by a compliment of chastened Chancellery Guards with Munch following close behind, berating them every step of the way.   
  
  
A very angry Lady President Romana paced around her office, her arms folded across her chest. Before her stood her soon-to-be ex-Castellan, along with the Doctor, Briscoe and Munch. Flavia stood behind Romana, looking just as angry as the Lady President. Zeta sat in a chair off to one side of the room, with Nikki on his lap, her faux-furred arms around his neck; if he was uncomfortable with his present situation, he gave no indication of it. The Time Lords had all shed their ceremonial headdresses and helmets, and the Doctor had gone further, removing his long scarlet robes and handing them to Tegan before following the others into the President's office.  
"It appears you've made a bit of a mess of things, Castellan," Romana said quietly.   
"These humans – " the Castellan began.  
"Saw the staser before any of your men did," Flavia finished quietly. The Castellan looked outraged.  
"If you would allow me to finish!" he snapped angrily. "These humans – especially _this_ human – " he said, pointing at Nikki. "Distracted my guards from their duties!"  
"Where we come from, fifty naked dancing girls shouldn't be able to distract a cop on guard duty," Briscoe said quietly. Munch muttered something under his breath about "being too optimistic" that Briscoe chose to ignore.  
"You're quite fortunate that there were no casualties today, Castellan," Romana said quietly. "Things could have ended so much worse for everyone involved."  
"I don't think you're going to like the way things are going to end for _you_ today, Castellan," Flavia added. "As of now, you are officially relieved of your duties by unanimous mandate of the High Council." Lips pursed, the Castellan nodded.  
"As you wish," he said coldly. "I can think of no suitable replacement for my position – "  
"Are you kidding?" Munch suddenly exploded. "A wilted houseplant could arrange better security than you! I wouldn't trust your guards to work security at a Little League game!"  
"How dare you – " the Castellan began.  
"This man grows tiresome," Romana said offhandedly. She motioned at a nearby guard. "Please remind him of the way out." The guard fell all over himself to remove the ex-Castellan. There was a moment of silence. "Thank Heavens that's over with," Romana sighed, undoing the clasps on her shimmering white Presidential robes.   
"I don't understand it," Zeta said. "I've known Lord Beta nearly all my life. Why would he try to kill you?"  
"Our old friend the Rani got to him," Romana said.  
"Don't tell me," the Doctor said. "She used psychotropic drugs to force him to do her bidding."  
"Exactly," Romana agreed. "She got to him just before she left Gallifrey."  
"He told you this?" Zeta asked.  
"He told the medics. They were trying to figure out what was wrong with him when he suddenly regenerated. Evidently it was the only way for his brain to throw off the control of the drugs. Needless to say, he feels terrible about everything."   
"Speaking of medics, your guys are sure Ed's going to be OK, right?" Briscoe suddenly asked. "He was shot at point blank range."   
"With a weapon set to disrupt a Time Lord's regeneration cycle," the Doctor reminded him. "Humans don't regenerate. It did knock him for a bit of a loop though, didn't it?"  
"Yes, but he should be recovered in time for Lord Zeta's party tonight," Romana said with a smile. "Speaking of which, I think we could all use some time to prepare for tonight's festivities." The others recognized their cue and began to leave. "Detective Munch?" Romana called. "May I have a word with you before you go?"   
  
  
The Doctor stood in front of the full-length mirror critically surveying his reflection. He wore black trousers, a white shirt open at the throat, and a black velvet frock coat.  
_"Look at you!"_ the voice of his second self said inside his head. _"You look nearly as silly as the one after me!"_  
_"I happen to think he looks quite nice!"_ Three said immediately.   
_"You would!"_  
_"Scarecrow!"  
"Fancy pants!"   
"I disagree with the little fellow,"_ One suddenly said. _"Young people today simply don't know how to dress. It's nice to see a man who knows – "  
"Oh come on!"_ Four scoffed impatiently. _"That look went out centuries ago!"_  
_"Hmph._ That _look was never 'in' in the first place!"_ Seven corrected.  
"If I remember correctly," the Doctor interrupted, "None of you are exactly in any position to criticize my dress sense!"  
_"Well, I never!"_ One huffed.  
"Oh, you certainly _did_!" the Doctor shot back. "Many, many times! There's four entire city blocks in Brooklyn that I can never visit again without being chased by a mob of angry fathers armed with baseball bats!"  
_"Yes, well…"_ One said, sounding embarrassed.   
_"Don't listen to any of them,"_ Five suddenly put in. _"That's exactly what I wore when I took Tegan out in Paris."_  
"Yes, I remember."  
_"And _she_ seemed to like it!"_ Seven added.  
"She did, didn't she?" the Doctor recalled with a grin.  
_"Memories light the corners of my mind,"_ Six warbled, very badly off key. _"Misty watercolor mem-o-reeeees – "  
"Shut up!"_ the other seven Doctors all said simultaneously.  
_" – of the way we were!"_ Six finished triumphantly.  
_"You're no Streisand!"_ Three snapped impatiently.  
_"Thank God!"_ Four put in irreverently. _"Tegan probably wouldn't go for that!"_ The Doctor gave his reflection one final once-over, straightened his collar, and smiled with satisfaction.  
"All right, you lot, that's enough for one night," the Doctor said with a sigh. "I'm finally off."  
_"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, young man!"_ One advised.  
_"Yes, well, that leaves nearly _anything_ open, doesn't it?"_ Five asked acidly. The Doctor laughed.  
  
  
"You smell good tonight!" Tegan told him as she took his arm. "You've used that nice soap again, haven't you?"  
"Are we all ready to go?" Angelina asked, walking into the console room. She was dressed in a pink blouse and white jeans, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. "That dress we bought you in Nova Scotia looks very nice on!" she told Tegan.   
"Thanks." Briscoe and Munch walked into the console room, still dressed in their black suits.  
"I have rooms that are absolutely packed with clothing," the Doctor told them. "You're more than welcome to pick something else to wear if you like."  
"I've been in those rooms, remember?" Briscoe asked. "I don't think I'd make a very good impression in a silver spandex jumpsuit!" Angelina giggled, imagining it.  
"There are many different kinds of clothes in there – " the Doctor began.  
"Where did you _get_ all those clothes?" Tegan suddenly asked. He shrugged.  
"I've no idea, really. Sometimes I think the old girl manufactures them and spits them out in various rooms just to amuse herself!" Green walked into the console room. "Ah, there you are. How are you feeling?"  
"Just fine," Green said brightly. They saw that he had paid a visit to one of the wardrobe rooms, and was now wearing a pair of black leather pants and a black silk shirt open at the throat.  
"You look like an escapee from _Soul Train_," Briscoe told his partner. "All you need is a couple of gold chains around your neck!"  
"It beats looking like I belong on _Six Feet Under_," Green retorted with a shrug.  
"I see you decided against wearing the pink sequined tutu," Munch observed wryly.  
"Yeah, I figured Lennie'd want to wear it."  
"I don't have the legs for it," Briscoe cracked.  
"If everyone's done with the fashion commentary…" the Doctor said in a prodding tone.   
"Let's go!" Green agreed. "We'll show those Time Lords how to par-tay!"  
  
  
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11, "A Whole New World"  
  
  
  



	12. 11 A Whole New World

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Chapter 11  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
The party was being held in a large space normally used for conferences or lectures. Tonight, it had been converted into a suspiciously human-looking club, complete with dance floor. Tables and chairs had been set up off to one side where a fully stocked bar awaited the guests' pleasure. Up on an elevated platform, a human DJ stood behind his equipment, arranging CDs for later play.  
"I see your friend's fingerprints all over the place," the Doctor told Angelina. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."  
"Yeah, and I think she had some help from that publicist of hers," Angelina mused. "That lady's a scheming manipulator to make you Prydonians proud!"  
"Yes, she'd fit right in," the Doctor agreed.  
"Why does this scene make me think of my eighth grade Homecoming Dance?" Briscoe asked.  
"Yeah, but instead of boys on one side of the room and girls on the other, you've got Time Lords on one side and humans on the other!" Tegan pointed out, laughing.   
"I see they don't know what _casual dress_ means," Munch added, indicating the Time Lords and Ladies in their stately robes.  
"That _is_ casual dress," the Doctor told the detective with a shrug. "You've seen what we look like when we get dressed to the nines."  
"I'm going to get a drink," Green told them. They watched him cross the dance floor and saunter casually into the group of Time Lords.  
"What's he doing?" the Doctor asked. Briscoe shrugged. Green stopped to exchange a few quick words with several Time Lords he'd met back in the Panopticon. Finally, he reached what had obviously been his goal all along: the startlingly pretty young Time Lady in the green Arcalian robes whom they'd seen Andred interviewing in front of the Panopticon earlier that day.   
"He doesn't stand a chance," Briscoe scoffed.   
"You never know," Tegan told him with a shrug. Suddenly, there was a loud burst of music.  
"I'm coming up," Pink sang at full volume. "So you'd better get this party started!" Nikki and Zeta walked out onto the DJ's elevated platform arm-in-arm. Nikki still wore her fur and was back in her big hat and dark glasses, while Zeta wore black jeans, a gray knit top, and a black jacket. His messy black hair looked to have been professionally tamed (_probably with a whip and a chair,_ Tegan mused) and parted down the middle to hang in straight shiny perfection around his face.  
"They look like a magazine cover," Tegan said.   
"They could be," Angelina agreed. "He's quite good-looking when he's cleaned up like that."  
"I'm coming up," Pink repeated loudly through the speaker system. "So you'd better get this party started!"  
  
_ Get this party started on a Saturday night  
Everybody's waiting for me to arrive  
Sending out the message to all of my friends  
We'll be looking flashy in my Mercedes Benz_  
  
Nikki pulled off her black hat and tossed it into the crowd below, shaking her head so that her dark hair settled in neat waves over her shoulders. She took off her sunglasses and shoved them in her coat pocket, and beamed brilliantly at the crowd. She unbuttoned her long coat and let it slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor behind her, revealing a long-sleeved mod-ish sweater dress with thick horizontal scarlet and orange stripes. She'd completed the outfit with large orange plastic hoop earrings, bright scarlet tights and a little pair of shiny orange plastic go-go boots.  
  
_ I got lots of style, check my gold diamond rings  
I can go for miles, if you know what I mean!_  
  
Nikki smiled suggestively at that last line and took Zeta's arm, and together they descended down the steps and into the crowd.  
"Speaking of scheming manipulators, your friend's not a bad one herself!" the Doctor told Angelina, who grinned.  
"She looks like _That Girl_," Munch observed.  
"What girl?" Angelina asked, puzzled.  
"Marlo Thomas," Briscoe replied.  
"Who?"  
"Never mind, it was before your time," Munch told her. Meanwhile, Zeta and Nikki had made it to the dance floor.  
  
_I'm coming up, so you'd better get this party started!_  
  
Tegan saw exactly how it began: Isaac grabbed a random Time Lady and dragged her out onto the dance floor. Suddenly, reluctant Time Lords and Ladies were being pulled onto the dance floor by supermodels, hairdressers, fashion designers, and even one or two rock stars.  
"Come on!" Tegan said, grabbing her own Time Lord and dragging him onto the dance floor, followed by Angelina and Munch. From across the room, Chancellor Flavia caught Briscoe's eye.  
"Why the hell not?" he asked himself rhetorically, crossing the room to where she stood. She wasn't the type to be grabbed and dragged away, so Briscoe gallantly offered her his arm.   
Green was showing the pretty young Time Lady in the green robes how to move her body to the music when he happened to glance over and see Briscoe and Flavia dancing together. "Well I'll be damned!" he exclaimed with a grin. Briscoe spotted Romana dressed in a flowing red blouse and black pants, dancing with a young man whom the detective recognized from a Calvin Klein underwear ad on a billboard in Times Square. _ Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,_ Briscoe thought wryly, completely forgetting that his own dance partner was hundreds of years his senior.  
After a couple of dances, the Doctor and Tegan retreated to a table on the sidelines for drinks and conversation.   
"I didn't know the Time Lords partied like this!" Tegan shouted to be heard over the music.   
"It's all right, Tegan!" The Doctor yelled in reply, leaning forward in his seat to press a small red button in the center of the table. The music was immediately reduced to background noise. "You don't have to shout," he finished in a completely normal tone of voice. "Personal sound barriers," he explained, smiling like the cat with the cream. "Each table has one. It makes conversation a bit easier, don't you think?"  
"Yeah," she replied, suddenly distracted. He followed her gaze to the dance floor, where Munch and Angelina were dancing to a recent remake of an old Patti LaBelle song. As they watched, she reached up and ran her hands through Munch's hair, saucily mouthing the lyrics. "Hello, hey Joe – " She grabbed his tie and pulled him close. " – you wanna give it a go?" She closed her eyes and threw her head back like a woman in the throes of passion. "Ohhhhhh! Gitchee gitchee ya ya da da, gitchee gitchee ya ya here!"  
"You know," the Doctor said with a frown, "I'm not sure I like this song!"  
"Now there's a surprise," Tegan said dryly.   
_ "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"_ The Doctor looked on the verge of getting up to put a stop to Angelina's little performance, and Tegan touched his arm to get his attention.   
"Like I said before, I didn't know Time Lords partied like this!" she repeated, trying to distract him.  
"Neither did I!" he told her. He gazed around incredulously, unable to believe that his fellow Time Lords had surrendered themselves to the celebratory mood with such carefree abandon. "I wonder if they've drugged the drinks," he mused, picking up his own drink and sniffing it cautiously.  
"Who?" she asked.  
"Nikki and her publicist, of course. I wouldn't put anything past those two!" He sipped his drink, adding as an afterthought, "They would make excellent Prydonians!" Suddenly, he peered into the crowd, frowing. "Is that Mick Jagger?" Meanwhile, Angelina and Munch had finished their dance and were approaching the table.  
"We're a bad influence on your lot," Angelina said, plopping down into the chair next to the Doctor. "Time Lords and fashionistas: Never should the twain have met!" The Time Lord laughed.  
"I dunno, think it's doing them some good!" Tegan said.   
"I have to agree," the Doctor said, gesturing at the dance floor. "Look at Flavia… who would have guessed she had it in her?"  
"Your planet's not going to know what hit it," Munch said from his seat at Angelina's side. "I have a feeling that Nikki is going to shake up everyone around here pretty good!"  
"She could only improve things!" the Doctor said with feeling.  
"Gallifrey's not exactly the most exciting planet out there, right?" Angelina asked.  
"Hardly," the Doctor agreed.   
"Look at them together," Tegan said in a musing tone, her eyes on Zeta and Nikki. "They'd have beautiful children."  
"And they just might if they're not careful!" Angelina said, grinning wickedly. "I overheard someone saying that the only calculation Zeta's interested in doing nowadays is seeing how many times 1457 can go into 23!" It took the others a moment to get it.  
"That's disgusting!" Munch said without much conviction.  
"Actually, it's rather funny," Tegan said, laughing. From across the dance floor, Nikki waved at them enthusiastically, then grabbed Zeta's arm and began to steer him towards their table.  
"If that's the worst thing they're saying, Zeta's very lucky," the Doctor said in the tone of a man who spoke from bitter experience.  
"Yeah, they don't really go for that kind of stuff around here, do they?" Munch asked. The Doctor shook his head.  
"Not at all."   
"No wonder they're all so uptight!" Angelina said.  
"Who's uptight?" Nikki asked as Zeta went to look for more chairs.   
"Oh no one here, certainly!" her friend replied sarcastically. Nikki laughed. Zeta arrived with two more chairs, and the others scooted over to make room.  
"Are you sure it's a good idea to introduce them to the concept of 'fun', Zeta?" the Doctor asked once the couple had been seated. "They're really not built to handle it, you know. Their heads might explode."   
"Good!" Zeta replied, laughing. "That would weed out the worst of the bunch, anyway!" The DJ began playing an Aerosmith song. Suddenly, Romana appeared at their table, standing over the Doctor.  
"Dance, Doctor?" His eyebrows went up.  
"Madame President," he said gravely. "Is that a statement, an offer, or a Presidential Command?"  
"Hmm." At last she thought of a suitable reply. "Yes!" she finally told him brightly. He laughed.  
"All right," he agreed, rising to his feet and offering her his arm.  
"Interesting," Zeta mused.  
"What is?" Tegan asked. The Doctor and Romana had reached the dance floor. Zeta shrugged.  
"There are rumors that they were lovers," he replied distantly, watching them dance.  
  
_ Young lust, sometimes you need it so bad  
It's enough to drive a young girl mad  
So whatcha gonna do about it?  
A little bit of nasty, you look a little sleazy  
Now don't get any on ya!_  
  
"Obviously there's no truth to those rumors," Munch said dryly.  
"Obviously," Nikki agreed in an equally dry tone, watching as the Doctor put Zeta's scandalous performance on the dance floor at Angelina's party to shame.  
"Oh my God, is there a woman in the Universe that he hasn't shagged?" Angelina asked with dismay.  
"Doubtful," Zeta replied, glancing at Tegan, whose expression was very carefully neutral.  
  
_ Young lust, you better keep your daughter inside  
Or she's gonna get a dose of my pride  
Yeah, everybody talks about it!_  
  
Tegan choked on her drink. Laughing, Nikki cheerfully pounded her on her back.  
"Look at all the Time Lords!" Angelina exclaimed, suddenly breaking into laughter. Nikki did so, and laughed even harder. Most of the Time Lords had stopped whatever they had been doing to watch the two dancers with expressions ranging from furious outrage to slack-jawed, open-mouthed astonishment.  
"This alone was worth the price of admission!" Zeta said, laughing. He picked up his drink and made a toasting gesture towards the dance floor. "It's moments like this that make it all worthwhile!"  
"You love to rattle their cages, don't you?" Munch asked, grinning.  
"Everyone needs a hobby," Zeta replied seriously.  
  
_ Young lust, c'mon now I just can't wait  
Aw, your fishy's gonna gonna get bait!  
Everybody-body's doin' it!  
Young lust, Honey I don't mean to bitch  
Sometimes you gotta scratch that itch!  
So whatcha gonna do about it?_  
  
When the song ended, there was an astonished silence. Zeta stood up and began applauding. Grinning, the Doctor and Romana joined hands and gave him a bow and a curtsey, respectively. The DJ decided that it might be a good idea to get the party going again, and immediately began playing another song. Romana let go of the Doctor's hand, waved at Zeta and disappeared into the crowd. Zeta sat down, shaking his head and grinning in admiration. The Doctor reached the table and dropped into his chair.  
"You're incorrigible!" Tegan scolded him, but she was smiling.  
"He's brilliant!" Zeta corrected. The Doctor shrugged.  
"I try," he said modestly.  
"Yeah, just don't pull stunts like that on Earth, all right?" Angelina pleaded, mortified. "The tabloids have enough fun at my expense as it is!"  
"I think he has more sense than that," Nikki assured her friend.  
"Don't count on it," Tegan said bitingly. "_Sense_ and _the Doctor_ don't belong together in the same sentence!"  
"Oh!" the Doctor said, sounding hurt. He pulled a wounded face.  
"No one has any sympathy, I promise you!" Angelina told him.  
"Really, he's slowed down quite a bit," Zeta assured her seriously. "In his younger days, he was quite uncontrollable. Why, there was one time he – "  
"No one cares about my youthful indiscretions, Zeta," the Doctor said hastily.  
"It doesn't sound like your indiscretions were confined to your youth!" Nikki put in.   
"Has Zeta ever told you about his own version of Scavenger Hunt?" the Doctor asked innocently.  
"No," Nikki said, sounding interested. She gave Zeta a look. "He hasn't."  
"Really, it was a long time ago – " Zeta began.   
"This was during his Academy days, of course," the Doctor said, talking over him. "He and Epsilon made a list – "  
"Don't pay any attention to him, he's just – " The Doctor raised his voice further to be heard over Zeta.  
" – of female students and passed it around to a few others. The first one to... _get_ all of them was the winner," the Doctor concluded. Tegan opened her mouth to say something. "And before you ask," he continued, glancing at her, "I was not a participant in that particular escapade."  
"Too busy swinging from chandeliers at fancy parties?" she asked innocently.  
"Something like that," he agreed.   
"My Scavenger Hunting days were a _very_ long time ago," Zeta assured Nikki. She shrugged.  
"Hey, take a look at the guys I usually hang around with," she said, gesturing at the fashion designers and hairdressers. "I'm just glad you're straight!" The current song ended and they saw Nikki's publicist wade into the crowd on the dance floor, shooing everyone away.   
"Now what?" the Doctor wondered.  
"I think that's our cue," Zeta said, rising to his feet and offering Nikki his hand.  
"I think you're right," she agreed, standing and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. A much slower, quieter song began, a song that Tegan recognized from Disney's _Aladdin_. She glanced over at Angelina.  
"Your suggestion?" she asked. Her daughter, well known to be mad for everything Disney, smiled. "It's very appropriate," Tegan said.  
"Isn't it?" Angelina agreed. Everyone in the room was watching the couple on the dance floor as Nikki wrapped her arms around Zeta's neck and they began to dance slowly together as Luther Vandross sang:  
  
_ I could show you the world, shining shimmering splendid  
Tell me Princess, when did you last let your heart decide?  
I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder  
Over sideways and under, on a magic carpet ride.  
  
A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view  
No one to tell us no or where to go or say we're only dreaming.  
_  
Vanessa Williams added her voice to the song:  
  
_ A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew  
But now from way up here, it's crystal clear   
That now I'm in a whole new world with you._  
  
"You know, this is like being at a wedding reception," Munch said suddenly.  
"I think that's rather the idea," the Doctor said dryly.   
"She's pretty smart for a model, huh?" Angelina asked with a grin.  
"Very." the Doctor agreed.   
"And Zeta's no idiot either," Tegan put in. "Why try to cram her down the Time Lords' throats when he can bring her in the back door instead? Thanks to that publicist of hers, they're dying to know more about her… they're all absolutely fascinated!"  
"And I'm sure Joanie is already coming up with more schemes to keep them that way," Angelina said knowingly.  
"Of course it helps that Zeta really doesn't care at all what anyone else thinks of him," the Doctor added. Tegan glanced at him.  
"And you do." It wasn't a question. He sighed.  
"Not as much as I once did," he finally replied, taking her hand. She leaned close to him.  
"Wanna dance?" she asked in a low voice, for his ears alone.  
"Don't you think it would be a bit rude to intrude on the happy couple's big moment?" he asked with a frown. She gave him a look.  
"I didn't mean _here_, Doctor!" she told him with a grin.  
They bid Angelina and Munch goodnight and went to find the TARDIS.  
  
  
In the console room, Tegan watched the Doctor look through a stack of records next to an ancient-looking Victrola.  
"Now, if I could only find…" he muttered to himself with a frown, flipping through a stack of albums. Tegan came up behind him and put her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his velveted back.  
"That's the same thing you wore when we went out in Paris," she reminded him.  
"Is it?" he asked in an unconvincing show of surprise, his tone reminding her of his fifth incarnation. She laughed.  
"You know it is," she told him. He put down the stack of records and turned to face her, putting his arms around her.  
"Paris," he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her. _"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"_ He kissed her again.  
"Yeah," she agreed breathlessly. "_Ce soir_ and all the other _soir_s after this one!" She pulled him down to kiss him some more.  
"That's an awful lot of _soir_s," he said seriously when she finally broke for air. "We'd better get started right away if we hope to cover them all."   
"What a marvelous idea, Doctor!"   
"I thought you'd like it," he agreed. "Come on, then," he said, releasing her and taking her hand. "Time for bed. Doctor's orders!"  
"Ooo, that sounds like it could be fun!" she said wickedly.  
"You surprise me, Tegan."  
"How so?"  
"I don't think you've ever done anything I've asked without arguing about it!"  
"I doubt I'll find much to disagree with tonight," she told him. "Besides, we can always play Airhostess And The Naughty Passenger later!" With a laugh, he took her hand and led her to bed.   
  
  
Item from a _New York Post_ gossip column:  
  
_**HERE COMES THE BRIDE!**  
  
SUPERMODEL ANGELINA and her Munch-alicious man have made it official. The precious pair tied the knot earlier this week at a Manhattan synagogue in a small ceremony that mixed New York's Finest with New York's Fabulous.   
  
The blushing bride and her hunky hubby also announced their plans to leave New York. The coy couple would only say that he has a job waiting for him and she plans to return to college to do some postgraduate work. This columnist says that it all sounds as mysterious as Nikki Benson's recent move to parts unknown.  
  
Speaking of Nikki, the bodacious beauty was spotted leaving the wedding in the company of her dark-haired mystery man. When this columnist asked her for an introduction, the lofty lovely simply smiled and blew a kiss before departing in a waiting limo. _  
  
  
CONTINUED IN "Epilogue"  
  
  



	13. 12 Epilogue

  
  
  
"A Whole New World"  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
Text of an electronic communication from Angelina Munch to the Doctor and Tegan Jovanka, sent via Gallifrey's Panotropic Communication Network:  
  
_Ahoy, Cosmic Wanderers!  
  
You asked in your last letter how things are here on Gallifrey… well, as you've probably guessed, Nikki's shaken things up considerably, and I've done some shaking up of my own since my arrival! Even though I am quite absorbed in learning the language in preparation for my entry into the Academy, I've still found some time to have a few nights on the town with Nikki. Needless to say we leave devastation in our wake everywhere we go! The Time Lords simply don't know what to do with us, or about us!  
  
You'll be happy to learn that Andred is back in the fold as Castellan. He was never really happy as a presenter for the PRV, but it was all he could get after he got the sack. The vacancy he left at the PRV was recently filled by none other than Nikki, who is giving him quite a run for his money as a presenter of a salacious gossip programme. She's like a cross between _Maury Povich_ and _Sixty Minutes_, and Time Lords tremble in their boots when she and her camera crew show up in their offices!  
  
And speaking of trembling in their boots, the Chancellery Guards are quite on their toes nowadays, what with Munch putting them through their paces every morning. Many of them have protested that it's silly, all this target practice and whatnot, because there's never been any sort of threat on Gallifrey. Munch told them darkly of recent events in New York, and what can happen when one isn't prepared. I'm not sure they're very happy about a human being second in command to the Castellan, but at least they seem to accept his authority.   
  
Thank you for the photograph you sent. It looks like rattling 'round the Universe in a battered old time capsule agrees with the two of you. Munch said you're the outer space equivalent of a retired couple who gets an RV and drives 'round the country seeing the sights. Well at least you're not boring like Nikki's parents… her father's an accountant, for God's sake.  
  
Well, that's about all I have time for right now… I've got to get back to the books and try to drum more of this alien gibberish into my head. Honestly, it's like trying to learn to read Greek, Russian, and Hebrew all at once while simultaneously working advanced calculus equations in your head. I only hope I can manage it… Lord Gamma once promised me that I'd never be admitted to the Academy, and he might turn out to be right after all if I can't wrap my brain around the language. Oh well, the PRV is always looking for new presenters with scandalous pasts who aren't fit for doing much else but jabbering vacantly on outer space television… I suspect I'd fit right in!  
  
Love,  
  
Angelina.  
  
  
  
_FINIS.  
  
  
  



End file.
